Bouquet
by O-nimode
Summary: Rose by rose, piece by piece, all to finally be tied together with a white and black ribbon. If two negatives equal a positive, surely the same can be applied to two wounded souls. The perfect bouquet is formed. ErikxOC Please R
1. Chapter 1: The White Rose

**NOTE:** ...Okay. Time for some explaining. I actually wasn't planning on posting any of this story for the longest time, but after writing 12 chapters within a week, I figured that at my friend's urging I probably should. So here it is. I caution you though, fair reader, that updates with this story will most likely be sporadic and completely random. Though I'll most likely never drop the story completely, it will most certainly not tick to any kind of schedule. Fair warning.

At any rate, enjoy I suppose. R&R.

* * *

A roll of thunder boomed outside, causing the girl within the house to glance up from her book. _Quite the little storm,_ she mused to herself. Figures, it was after all Friday the 13th. She turned her attention back to the last page, to the last few paragraphs. Once finished, she tossed the book aside, and with a sigh stood up. What to do now? No sense watching T.V, it would be most likely impossible to get any reception through the weather outside. A movie then. She walked out of her room, stretching out her back. As she walked down the hall, she caught sight of herself in the mirror on the wall.

She paused, and stared with distaste at her reflection. Truly, she should've been born albino; it would've made more sense than her current coloration. Her hair, while technically blonde, was such a hideous and muted shade of blonde that in darkness it looked gray and made her seem old. It was also cut in a strange way, a bit like a boy's. It was layered and cut so that it clung and shaped her head and neck. Her skin was even worse, the color of a vampire, or maybe even a corpse. If it wasn't for the splattering of freckles that spanned from cheek to cheek, that dotted her shoulders and oddly enough her hips, people would surely mistake her for a ghost. The fact that she was thin to the point of being skeletal, as if she had long spidery limbs, certainly did not help.

She brushed her long bangs out of the way for a brief second, once again deeply regretting she hadn't inherited her father's warm brown eyes. Hers were an icy, cold blue, and could never give off the same feeling of emotion his gave off. Turning her head to the right, she gave a relieved smile at the rainbow-colored ear cuff. She turned away from her reflection and moved on to the living room. Humming a little ditty to herself she let her fingers trail over the many DVD spines that sat on the shelves beside the T.V. Finally her fingers paused on a single title. _Phantom of the Opera_.

"E-excellent, m-more heartbreak f-from love triangles th-that went horribly wrong," she joked to herself. She set the DVD up, and went and sat on the couch, studying the information on the back. _Christine._ It was such a pretty name, far prettier than her own. She knew her father had meant well when he'd dubbed her with it, but honest to god, where the hell did he get _Orva_ from? Who the **fuck** calls their daughter such an ugly-sounding name as Orva? What does it even mean? She shook her head, and turned her attention back to the screen. Grabbing the remote, she pressed the play button, and started to watch her favorite film for the umpteenth time. She curled herself up into a warm little ball, once again adjusting the sleeve of her father's gray sweater-vest, which was really much too big on her.

Normally she didn't wear his clothing. Only when he was away on business trips, which was fairly often. It gave her a small comfort, reminding her of how he had always been the light in her darkness. Soon the movie reached one of her favorite parts; the famous leading of Christine down to Erik's lair while the main theme was sung. As the song came to a close, Orva started mouthing the words to herself. Reaching the part where Christine vocalizes, she decided to give a shot at hitting the angelic notes.

"Aaahhh~aaaahhh~aaaahhh..." _Yikes_, horribly off-key. She tried again with the next note. Better, but still way off. Another try, and she managed to get even closer to the true sound. Better. Closer. Better. Closer. Finally, the intimidating high C. Orva screwed her eyes shut in concentration, and released the air in her lungs. _Perfect._ The note rang high and true, matching Christine's. There was even a slight echo to it, as though the sound was reverberating off of stone walls rather than her simple living room.

"Booyah!" she cheered once she was done, pumping her fist into the air and opening her eyes. What she saw before her made her freeze. Instead of the television playing the movie, she saw a cave wall covered in many drapes and tapestries. Looking to her right, an organ. To her left, Gerard Butler and Emmy Ross-

"_Holy shit!_" She jumped, the action causing her to fall from the small ledge, knocking over a candle stand. "Ouch!" For a few moments she lay there, rubbing her head, until she heard the creak and slight splash of someone getting off a boat. Eyes opening wide, she saw an upside-down version of a very angry looking Gerard approaching her. With a small "Eep!" of fear she rolled onto her feet and picked the candle stand up, setting it right. She quickly backed away from the dark shadow.

"I-I a-am s-so sorry, I-I-" she tried to apologize.

"How did you get down here?" he snarled.

"I-I-I d-don't kn-know, I-"

"Get out!"

"I-I-I'll j-just s-see m-myself ou-out th-then," Orva agreed, turning straight for the water and walking right into it. "D-Don't w-worry a-about th-the b-boat, I-I c-can w-walk." So saying, she splashed her way through, the water eventually reaching chest height. As she waded, she could hear Gerard moving on to his next musical number...and then it slowly began to occur to her. _What the hell just happened?_ One second, she was enjoying herself and singing along with the musical, the next she was here. Wherever that was. Perhaps the set of the film? She looked at the nearby mossy walls; no camera people as far as she could see. The water felt terribly cold and wet and _real_, so she supposed that ruled out a dream.

_Then perhaps...the world itself?_ Impossible, she wanted to argue with herself. How could that even happen? The same magical musical bullshit that happened in the film, which allowed candles to rise out of the water and light the _second_ the came out of the water, let alone the fact that nobody had even touched them? Maybe. The rest of the way down the canal, she thought deeply about it. Eventually she reached the steps of the other side. With some difficulty she managed to lift her water-logged tennis shoes out of the muck and onto the first steps. Shivering from the cold, she lifted her hand to eye level and proceeded to walk as closely along the wall as possible, for fear of trap-doors.

_Wait, if I really am in the world of The Phantom, then I wonder..._ What could she do, to change the dreadful fate of the main characters? It had always bothered her, the first time she'd seen the film. While she didn't blame Christine for choosing Raoul(any sensible person would), the situation still left much to be desired. While Erik was still a deranged, obsessive murderer, she couldn't help but feel her heart strings be tugged at how lonely he seemed. Poor lonely Erik, never to have known love. Poor Christine, to have felt so hurt and betrayed to see that her angel had been a farce all along. Poor Raoul, for...actually, what did he really go through because of the events in the film? Orva shrugged. It didn't matter so much with him. She gave a little nod to The Phantom's horse as she passed him.

Finally she reached the hall that led down to the mirror that opened to Christine's room. Wrapping her arms around herself, her chattering teeth and footsteps made little echos. With a light push, the mirror slid open. Once closed behind her, she walked to the door on the other side. But when she grabbed the handle, the door would not open. _Oh yeah, he locked it._ She sighed, and walked behind the nearby screen. Surely sweet Christine wouldn't mind if she borrowed her clothes for one night, right?

She laid the dripping wet clothes out to dry. Reaching into the pocket of her pants, she pulled out the small case which held a pair of contacts which changed her eye color from ice-blue to warm-brown if she so desired. Most likely those would have to be washed. She set the case on the desk, and walked to the bed. She had to gather the nightgown about her in order to not step on it. Luckily, she and Christine appeared to be close in size, with Christine being just a bit taller and more filled out. Orva fell asleep almost as soon as she slipped under the covers.

-0-0-

Christine stepped back into her room and Erik slid the mirror back into place behind her. He regretted letting his guard down, to have allowed her a glimpse at his horrid face. He started to retreat back into the darkness, until he caught sight of the figure lying in Christine's bed. He narrowed his eyes; it was the girl who had _somehow_ managed to make it down to his lair, completely unmolested. Normally he would have killed the girl on the spot, but he had to make a good impression on Christine(fat lot of good that did), and so he simply ordered her to leave.

He began to back away, still glaring in the girl's direction. He made a mental note to kill her some time later.

0-0-0

Leaning over the girl, Christine placed a hand on her shoulder, and gently shook her awake. She mumbled something incoherent before opening her eyes. At first she jumped and looked around herself, but then relaxed.

"Who are you?" Christine asked.

"I-I'm O-Orva," the girl stuttered.

"What are you doing here at the Opera House?"

"I...I c-came to w-warn you," Orva told her slowly.

Christine raised her eyebrows. "Warn me?"

Suddenly Orva reached out and gripped her arm. "Y-you m-must listen t-to me, you a-are in terrible danger," she whispered urgently. "Y-you m-most likely w-won't believe this, b-but I've seen the f-future. All that currently lies d-down the path before you is h-heartbreak and death. But I think I-I know how to avoid this, if you're w-willing to trust me."

"What are you talking about?"

"Y-your A-Angel of M-Music is also Th-the Phantom! He's obsessed, h-he loves you to death a-and will do whatever it t-takes to try and make you h-his. Please, as far as I can s-see there is currently only one solution to th-this."

"What? The Phantom? Why that's absurd!" Christine said with a laugh. "The Angle of Music is kind and caring, while the Phantom is wicked and causes all sorts of trouble."

"R-roses h-have thorns, th-they say," Orva argued.

Christine's smile faltered a bit, but was quickly back in place. "They are two completely different people. There's nothing to fear."

"H-how c-can I p-prove to you th-that I'm right?" she asked desperately.

"You can't." Christine stood to go change behind her screen, when Orva's voice stopped her.

"W-when th-the Opera t-tries to perform _I-Il Muto_, the Phantom w-will request that you play a-as the Countess, and Carlotta the p-pageboy. The Managers will disobey these orders, a-and instead cast you both as the opposites. Th-the Phantom will be angry, firstly because they didn't l-listen to his casting suggestion, and secondly because Box F-Five will be occupied by Raul. He will cause a slight d-disturbance, which will interrupt the opera briefly. During that time Carlotta will g-go off stage and have some lubricant sprayed into her mouth, except it's n-not really her lubricant, it's some sort of poison that will turn her v-voice into a croak. That will cause the opera to pause for quite a while l-longer while the managers will have you jump into the role of the countess. During this t-time, to keep the audience entertained they will have the ballet from Act III performed for them. D-during the performance however, Joseph's corpse will be dropped from the rafters, a noose around his neck," she quickly rushed out to her. Christine stared. "W-when th-that happens, t-try to say th-that the Angel and Th-the Phantom are two separate b-beings to my face once again."

"It...won't happen. And besides, how will you even be allowed to stay at the Opera House long enough to see it come true yourself?"

"I-I'll g-get a j-job here," Orva argued, jumping up from bed.

"You can perform?" Christine asked with some surprise.

"O-oh g-gosh no, h-haven't you noticed m-my stuttering problem? I m-meant as a stage hand."

"Oh...I suppose it can't hurt," she relented, feeling rather uneasy.


	2. Chapter 2: The 'W' Word

**NOTE: **I own nothing except Orva.

* * *

"Joseph, meet your new stage hand," Andre introduced, pushing Orva forward.

"H-hello," she greeted, giving him a little nod.

The man raised his eyebrows at her, then turned back to Andre. "A girl?" he asked. "Wouldn't she normally be a performer, she seems as if she'd be dainty underneath those...boyish and baggy clothes."

"I-I h-have a b-bit of a sp-speech impediment, and I'm a-a clumsy dancer," Orva explained. "Th-that's w-why I a-asked to be a-a stage hand instead. I-I promise I'll work hard."

"Hmmm..." he rubbed his chin, studying her. "Well, alright, just don't get in the way." With that he walked off to presumably do some work. Orva was about to follow him, when in the corner of her eye she noticed a bouquet of roses sitting on a desk in the costume department. A few were white. She walked over to them, and pulled out a single white rose. She then walked in the direction of the stage, where she knew Madame Giry and her girls were rehearsing.

"U-um, e-excuse me," Orva asked, causing Giry to turn around.

"Yes?" she asked.

Orva presented her with the rose. "C-could y-you give th-this to the Ph-Phantom for me?" she requested in a low voice so no one would hear.

She raised her eyebrows at her. "Why not give it to him yourself?"

"I-I'm p-pretty sure h-he wants to k-kill me."

"Ah." She took the flower from her. "By the way...why is it you wish to give a rose to the Phantom?" she asked, her eyes searching.

Orva felt her face heat up. "I-i-it's n-not what y-you think. Assuming h-he speaks rose, this i-is my way of giving h-him a message."

"A message?"

"Y-yes. Y-you see, th-the different colors o-of roses have different m-meanings. White, for instance, can s-symbolize secrecy, if you know what I-I mean."

"I understand," she answered in a clipped tone, turning from her. "Don't worry, I'll make certain he gets it." Orva nodded, and walked over to the backstage.

0-0-0

He stood in the rafters, surprised by the scene he'd just witnessed. The girl was going to keep his secret? Why? What's more, he was surprised by her knowledge of the language of roses. He hadn't met anyone else who was knowledgeable of such things. Walking lightly, he found himself following her as she walked to and fro, working her new job as a stage hand among the surprised-looking men. He couldn't blame them for their surprise, she is the last thing you'd suspect to be working as a stage hand.

Such a light shade of blonde hair, that when cast in the shadow it looked a mystifying white. Shockingly white(a shade of which he couldn't quite place a name to yet) skin, decorated with light-brown freckles on her face. Crystalline blue eyes, and an undoubtedly expensive and colorful bit of jewelry on her left ear. Even beneath her baggy and boyish clothing, she looked so skinny and small. Normally women with such builds were ideal for being ballerinas or some such. Yet she seemed to prefer supporting roles, behind the scenes.

Stuffing his Punjab Lasso back within the folds of his cloak, he decided to merely observe her for now, to see if whether or not she would uphold the promise of the rose she sent.

-0-0-

"Y-you're s-sure that w-weight's secure?" Orva asked, gesturing to the ballast that was being lifted up into the rafters to offset the heaviness of the backdrops of the background for the upcoming show.

"Don't worry about it. You'd need to use a sharp blade for this thing to fall," Joseph reassured, his eyes flicking over to make brief contact before flicking away. She wasn't surprised he didn't want to look her in the eye. Her eyes, in addition to being a creepy and emotionless shade of blue, were framed thickly by long dark lashes. While normally this would've been a plus, on her it gave off the horrific impression that her eyes were sunken into her skull. Pity.

"So uh, if you don't mind my asking," Joseph brought her back to planet Earth. "What brings ya here to be a simple stage hand?"

"I-I l-love music, e-even though I m-myself am not particularly m-musical," she replied.

"Alright. But aren't you a little young? What of your parents?"

"...M-my f-father is a-away on a b-business trip, and won't b-be home until late May."

"What about your mother?"

"I-I d-don't even l-like thinking about h-her, let alone talking. I-I haven't seen her in s-six years," she said quietly, the memories slowing inkling their way back into her head. She clutched her father's sweater-vest.

"...Did she die?"

"N-no, m-my father a-and her had a-a divorce." Now she could almost hear it, the word she hated the very most, tickling the edges of her mind.

"A divorce? Why, what happened between her and him?"

"M-my m-mother...was a-a cruel woman. H-hateful and bitter. I i-imagine when they first met sh-she was quite nice, but I've n-never seen her sweet side. Eventually it a-all became just too much, and they broke i-it off."

"I see."

Suddenly, they were interrupted by a stage hand from down below. "Hey Joseph, did you say the curtains were to be pink gold pink white gold, or pink emerald rose gray pink?"

"Mathew, I swear on the holy name of Saint Peter, if you got the _wrong_ color curtains, then I shall throw you off the roof, because that makes all our hard work absolutely worthless!" he yelled down.

Orva flinched at the word. There it was, that most hated of all words. Worthless. It echoed in her head, reminding her of the dreadful years of when her mother had been around, drilling the word into her head. _Worthless._ Whenever she'd made a mistake, every time she'd stuttered once too often, that had been the word used to describe her, had been directed in her direction. **Worthless**. To have no special talents or abilities, to be so completely average, even slightly below average. To never truly feel needed or wanted. To have no purpose or use. _**Worthless**_.

"I-I w-wish you w-wouldn't say that w-word," she said quietly.

"Huh? What word?" Joseph asked.

"Th-that 'W' w-word. I-I hate it."

"Worthless?" She flinched. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't think such a word would bother you. After all, it's not like it's a cuss word."

"I-it's a-a cuss w-word to me," she said bitterly.

"Hmm. Then I won't say it anymore." Orva looked up at him to see him smiling. "Negative attitudes affect the work ethic of otherwise honorable employees ya' know."

She gave him a little smile back. "Th-thanks. Y-you're a g-good person."


	3. Chapter 3: No Perverts Allowed

**NOTE: **I own nothing except Orva.

* * *

She finished the last button of the vest that was a part of the extra boy's costume that she'd 'liberated' from backstage. She then pulled her father's sweater-vest on over it. She then checked that her rainbow ear cuff was still in place.

"Madame Orva?" a clipped voice asked, knocking on the nearby bedpost. Even though she was a stage hand, she'd been given a bed in the ballerina dormitories because she was a girl. Orva looked up to see Giry.

"Y-yes, m-madame?"

She held out a white rose, a black ribbon tied around it. "The Phantom sends his reply."

"O-oh, th-thank you." She took the rose, giving a little nod to Giry. Once Giry had walked off, Orva turned her attention back to the rose. "D-don't w-worry...I a-always keep other p-people's secrets..." she whispered softly, smelling the flower.

0-0-0

_We'll see about that_, Erik thought, watching her from beyond the wall. Then she lifted the flower to her nose to smell it, and it suddenly struck him exactly what shade of white her skin was(it'd been bothering him for a while) beneath the freckles; it was the exact shade of a white rose. Except her lips. Her lips were the color of a coral rose.

-0-0-

With a slight grunt Orva and some portly guy named Nathan pushed a wardrobe into place.

"There," Nathan said in satisfaction, clapping away the dust on his hands. Presently, they overheard some chorus girls walking close by, Christine and Meg within their number.

"Ah Christine, you have such a pretty voice, how could they have cast you as the page boy?" Meg lamented.

"It doesn't matter," Christine said cheerfully. "I don't need to sing in a performance to be happy. The Angel of Music is inside of me."

"Y-yeah I-I'll bet h-he is..._if_ y-you know what I m-mean," Orva commented snidely. Nathan burst into laughter beside her, and the other chorus girls went into giggles, while Christine turned tomato-red. "O-oh C-Christine, don't l-look at me l-like that," she tried to soothe, still snickering. She took a step towards her. "I-I o-only kid-" She was interrupted when something heavy sounding slammed into the ground, exactly where she'd been standing moments before. Whipping around, she saw that it was the weight that Joseph had secured to the ceiling just yesterday. She let out the breath that she'd been holding. "Th-that w-was-" She was interrupted a second time when the pulley that had held the sack of sand up in the air in the first place landed on her foot. For precisely three seconds, she tensed up and completely froze.

"..._Son of a BITCH!_" she screamed. For the next few minutes she turned into a sailor, cussing out every word under the sun while hopping around all over the place, clutching her foot. "Sh-shit f-fuck shit sh-shit shit!" Finally she sat herself back on the ground and pulled her shoe and sock off. Inspecting her big toe, she was met with the disturbing sight of the toe nail turning green and blue. She'd definitely be losing it.

"Well, on the bright side it doesn't look broken," Nathan offered, crouching down beside her to get a look. She shot a glare in his direction.

"D-doesn't st-stop it f-from hurting like h-hell..." she muttered.

"Hey, is everything alright over here?" Joseph asked, walking up to them.

"Everything's fine, just a small accident," Nathan told him. Orva then tried to push herself back onto her feet. Joseph quickly lent a hand.

"Can you walk?" Joseph asked.

"I-I c-can limp," she replied.

"Alright, then I want you to relax a bit on the job."

"W-what? N-no, it's o-only my foot. I-I can still do a-a bunch of stuff..."

"Nope. I won't allow it." And with that he walked off.

"D-damn..."

"I don't think The Phantom likes to hear such jokes about Christine..." Meg said quietly. The girls exchanged some whispers before continuing on their way. Orva glowered after them.

"Ah, c'mon, cheer up," Nathan said, patting a firm hand on her back. "It's not so bad. You can still help out, just...not as much. But that's okay, I'm sure it won't make much of a difference."

She felt something inside her seize up for a moment at those words. "N-no d-difference..." she echoed. As Nathan walked past her to attend to something else, she looked up at the rafters, where the weight had fallen. "D-do y-you really h-hate me so m-much?" she whispered.

0-0-0

Well, that hadn't worked out like he'd hoped. If only she hadn't stepped out of the way, he could've finished her for embarrassing Christine and making his ears burn at the dirty joke. Oh well, at least the pulley had landed on her foot and thrown her slightly out of commission. Turning his attention back to Christine, he followed her out to the stage from his place in the rafters.

-0-0-

Like a flash of lightning, the opening night of _Il Muto _arrived. Despite her slight limp and current inability to wear a shoe, Orva was hurrying to and fro for the last minute preparations.

"Where is my fan?" Carlotta screamed.

"R-right h-here, madame," Orva came forward, presenting the object.

Carlotta snatched it out of her hand. "Begone, snivelling child!" she snapped. Orva gave a little nod. With the performance about to start, she didn't want to be anywhere near the coming disaster.

She started to exit, heading for the outside hall, when Joseph caught her by the arm. "Say, where're ya going?" he asked.

"I-I n-need some f-fresh air," she quickly excused, not looking him in the eye.

"Well, okay, just come back soon. Even if Carlotta's singing, you don't want to miss the show, right?"

"U-um, r-right, yeah. I-I'll, I'll see y-you around." She pulled her arm free of his grasp and started to walk away. But when she reached the door, she stopped. She stood in the doorway for a few moments, thinking. Whipping around, she made a grand attempt at a dash, her injured foot moving awkwardly. "J-Joseph!" she called out, just before he climbed the ladder to the upper platforms. He turned around just in time for her to tackle him in a hug.

"Wh-what's this about?" he asked, bewildered.

She slowly stood up straight, and backed away. "J-just r-remember...you'll a-always be my f-friend."

"Yeah, right..." Giving his head a little shake he turned back to the ladder and climbed up to his post.

Orva turned and left. _Better if I had been able to convince Christine immediately...to prevent your death._


	4. Chapter 4: Heartbreak

**NOTE: **I own nothing except Orva.

* * *

Orva sat on the roof of the opera, not wishing to see in person a dead man dangling in the air before her. Especially when that guy was her friend. But she needed Christine to believe her, if she was to save her from her and Erik's sad fate.

Below her, within the Opera House, she thought she could hear people screaming. She closed her eyes briefly, a moment of sorrow overtaking her. With a sigh she stood up, and dusted herself off. She wouldn't have much time. She quickly walked over to the stone statue that she knew Erik would soon hide behind. Sure enough, a few seconds later, he appeared around the corner. His eyes opened wide, and he stumbled backward.

"Shh!" Orva told him, grabbing him and shoving him behind the statue with her.

"What are you-" he started to argue.

She quickly placed her hand over his mouth. "Y-you h-have to b-be quiet," she told him. A second later the door to the roof swung open, and Christine and Raul came out.

"Please Raul, you don't understand!" she said, sounding even more frightened than she had in the film.

"Christine, please tell me, what's wrong?" he pleaded.

"It's that new stage hand, Orva, she-" Orva quickly stuffed her fingers into Erik's ears. They struggled in silence for a few minutes before he was able to remove her fingers. "-everything!" Christine seemed to finish. Erik glared at Orva, who shrugged. But then they both heard Christine's and Raul's footsteps coming closer, and they both hopped onto the statue to retreat into the shadows. Sweet music started to play in the air around them as Christine's and Raul's musical number started. They walked right past the statue Orva and Erik were hiding in, the two of them leaning over to peek at them. As they did, the rose in Christine's hand fell to the ground.

Orva shut her eyes at that. She felt Erik freeze beside her. While she would have wanted to shield his eyes from the sight, for now he needed to see this. He needed to hear this. He needed his heart to be broken, at least once.

"_No more talk of darkness_

_forget these wide-eyed fears_

_I'm here, nothing can harm you_

_my words will warm and calm you,_" Raul sang.

"_Let me be your freedom_

_let daylight dry your tears_

_I'm here, with you, beside you_

_to guard you and to guide you._"

"_Say you'll love me_

_ev'ry waking moment._

_Turn my head with talk_

_of summertime..._" Christine joined in.

"_Say you need me_

_with you now and always_

_promise me that all you_

_say is true..._

_That's all I ask of you..._"

"_Let me be your shelter_

_let me be your light..._

_You're safe, no one will find you_

_your fears are far behind you._"

"_All I want is freedom_

_a world with no more night..._

_And you, always beside me_

_to hold me and to hide me._"

"_Then say you'll share with_

_me one love, one lifetime._

_Let me lead you from_

_your solitude..._

_Say you need me with you_

_here beside you_

_anywhere you go_

_let me go too..._

_Christine_

_that's all I ask of you._"

"_Say you'll share with_

_me one love, one lifetime._

_Say the word_

_and I will follow you..._"

"_Share each day with me_

_each night_

_each morning,_" they sang together.

"_Say you love me..._" Christine sang.

"_You know I do..._" Raoul sang.

"_Love me, that's all I ask of you..._" They sang, then kissed each other passionately, their fingers entwining together.

"_Anywhere that you go let me go too!_

_Love me, that's all I _

_ask of you..._" they finished together.

"I must go...they'll wonder where I am," Christine said softly. "Come with me Raul."

"Christine, I love you," he told her softly. Hearing the crunching of their footsteps in the snow, Orva peeked from behind the statue to see them leave. As soon as they were gone, she heard a particularly loud crunch just next to her. She turned to see that Erik had gone down, walked over and picked up the forgotten rose.

"Ph-Phantom?..." Orva asked softly. He didn't answer. "P-please, I-I'm sorry y-you had to s-see that, but you h-had to know. She doesn't l-love you, not in the way y-you love her..."

"Leave," he told her quietly.

With a small grunt she hopped down from her spot. "P-please l-listen to m-me. You have t-to let her go, i-it's not healthy to be o-obsessed like this. You haven't r-reached the point of no return yet, y-you can still save yourself and her from s-so much pain-"

"What do you know of pain?" he yelled out suddenly, turning on her with a savage look on his face. "What do you know of me and her? What do you know of heartbreak, of betrayal?"

Orva gulped. "I-I-I kn-know I'm n-not the most c-credible source, but-" She was interrupted when his fist made contact with her jaw. She flew through the air and landed with a hard thud on the cold, snow covered stone. Before she could recover, he grabbed the front of her father's sweater-vest and pulled her up to his face.

"Get out of my opera house," he snarled. He pushed her back down to the ground before standing up and storming off. Orva propped herself onto her elbows, watching as with a slight flourish of his cloak he disappeared into the night. Sitting up, she rubbed at her jaw.

_I should've known better than to think that just simply asking him to give her up wouldn't be enough. But I had to try...I don't want to just disappear without trying any other methods,_ Orva thought bitterly. Then she noticed that he too had dropped the forgotten rose in the snow. Reaching out a hand towards it, she held it up close for inspection. "Th-there th-there, little r-rose," she whispered to it. "I-I h-haven't forgotten y-you." She stroked a finger down the stem, stopping at the black ribbon tied around it. Grabbing one end, she undid the knot and pulled the ribbon off. She then stuffed it into her pocket.

Turning back to the rose, she grabbed one delicate petal, and with a small tug plucked it. "H-he's g-going to k-kill me." Dropping the petal, she plucked another one. "H-he's n-not going t-to kill me." The pattern of plucking continued in this sense. "H-he's g-going to k-kill me...he's n-not going to kill m-me...he's going to kill m-me...he's not going to kill m-me..." Eventually she reached the last petal. "Huh, w-well w-what d-do you know? H-he's not going to k-kill me." With a sigh she stood up and walked over to the edge of the building. Waiting until a breeze started up, she lightly tossed the rose stem into the air. Hopefully it will land on someone's head, and will therefore never be forgotten, remembered by that random person as the rose stem that had fallen from the sky.

Stuffing her hands into her pockets, she turned and walked off the roof, back inside. Time to go see Christine.


	5. Chapter 5: So Here's The Plan

**NOTE: **I own nothing except Orva.

* * *

Hearing a gentle knock on her door, Christine looked up.

"Come in," she called. With a slight creak Orva walked in. Christine jumped to her feet. "It's you..." she whispered.

"Y-yes," she agreed. "I-I'm s-sorry that th-that all had t-to happen, but I n-needed you to believe me."

"Oh god..." Christine sighed, clutching her forehead. "I can't believe you were right! They really are the same person. What am I to do?"

Looking around her as if she was checking that they were alone, she walked over to Christine. With a gesture she beckoned Christine turn her head, so she did. Orva then lifted herself up on the balls of her feet, and whispered into her ear, "F-fear n-not. I h-have a plan th-that will save you, R-Raul, The Phantom, everyone."

"Really?" Christine whispered back.

She nodded. "I-it h-has come t-to my attention th-that we are actually o-of similar builds. With a b-bit of make-up, a wig a-and a device of my own, I sh-shall disguise myself as you. Then when the Ph-Phantom kidnaps me, you and Raul will have the ch-chance to run. Hopefully, this will save many lives of a-a terrible fate."

She stared. "D-disguise yourself as me? You want to take my place?"

"I-it's th-the only w-way," she whispered sadly. "F-for th-three months th-there shall be p-peace. That leaves us p-plenty of time for the p-perfect disguise to be made, and f-for me to even start mimicking your m-mannerisms. That way, when he does kidnap me, I-I can pretend to be you for as long a-as possible."

"But that's so dangerous! You'll be killed!"

She gave a little smile at that, a smile that didn't even pretend to match her doll-like eyes. "A-at l-least I w-will have served s-some purpose."

"No, I, I can't let you do this-"

"C-Christine, p-please. Just t-trust me."

Christine sighed. "You're certain about this? You're certain you want to throw your life away for me?"

"N-not j-just for y-you, but for e-everyone involved, even the O-Opera House itself," Orva pressed.

"Well, okay. I suppose a wig and make-up can hide a great deal, but what about your eyes?"

"I-I a-already have th-the solution to th-that." She grabbed Christine's hand and led her out of the room. They walked all the way over to the ballerina dormitories. Orva walked over to her bed, and after some searching picked up a little white case. "Ch-check th-this out." She popped the case open, and on a fingertip retrieved what appeared to be a small clear disk. She turned away from Christine, and appeared to be messing with her eyes. When she turned back around, Christine gasped.

"Your eyes!" she exclaimed in shock.

"C-cool, r-right?" Orva said cheerfully, now looking at Christine with brown eyes instead of ice-blue.

"How did you do that?" she whispered, coming closer to inspect.

Opening her right eye wide, she removed the small clear disk from before. Once the disk was removed, her eye turned back to blue. "Th-they're c-called contacts," she explained, holding up the disk. "W-with th-these I c-can change the c-color of my eyes t-to match yours."

"That's amazing," she marveled.

Orva removed the second contact. After blinking a couple times, she looked at Christine with a much truer smile. "N-now, l-let's see a-about getting that w-wig ordered."


	6. Chapter 6: Admission and a Death Threat

**NOTE: **I own nothing except Orva.

* * *

"So, what exactly are you planning to do?" Christine asked. Two months had already passed, and in that time the wig had arrived, and Christine had been giving Orva lessons on how to act like her, and even to sing a little.

Orva looked up. "Y-you kn-know the M-Masquerade Ball, right?" she whispered conspiratorially.

"Yes, what about it?"

"Y-you m-must not a-attend. The Phantom i-is planning to make a-a bit of an entrance th-there, but I plan to d-distract him and everybody else. There n-needs to be the illusion that you st-still deeply feel for him. That way, when th-the next step can be taken and he kidnaps m-me, he will be more willing to believe my disguise f-for a bit longer than he might've otherwise."

"And what exactly is the next step?"

"F-for n-now, I c-can't tell you. R-rest assured, you will b-be informed when the time c-comes."

Christine sighed. "Fine. Next note..."

-0-0-

Orva hummed to herself as she lowered a prop to a different level.

"Say, what're you humming there?" Nathan asked, coming up beside her.

"O-oh, i-it's a s-song I'm learning," Orva replied.

"Gonna go into show business after all then?"

She jumped. "N-n-no! I-I mean, I-I, it's a s-song I know. From m-my childhood. And I only j-just remembered it a couple days a-ago," she quickly lied.

"Oh really? How does it go?"

"A-and b-by remembered, I-I meant just th-the tune. I don't q-quite remember the lyrics yet."

"Oh...okay then." He walked off with a rather confused look on his face. Orva sighed in relief. Looking down, she saw Giry pass by.

"M-Madame G-Giry!" she called, rushing down the nearby ladder to greet her.

"Yes?" she asked, turning to face her.

"I-I, c-can you d-deliver this to Th-The Phantom please?" Orva requested, reaching into the folds of her father's sweater-vest and pulling out a letter.

"Hmm, funny how I've seem to have become a messenger for you both," she remarked. She took the letter and walked off.

"Th-th-thank y-you!" Orva called after her.

-0-0-

He sat at his desk, staring at the letter Giry had delivered to him just before he had his dinner. _What an irritating girl...Why haven't I killed her yet?_ He grabbed his pen and a piece of stationary, and wrote a note to himself. "Remember to kill that pale stage hand..." he murmured as he wrote. "There." He set that aside, the grabbing a new piece of stationary wrote his reply to the letter she sent.

-0-0-

"Orva!" Giry called.

"Y-yes?" Orva responded, turning to face her after ensuring the box full of delicate props wouldn't fall from it's perch. Giry held out a letter, sealed with a red wax skull. "O-oh! Th-thank you." Giry nodded before walking off. Orva slipped her finger under the paper and with a slight tear removed the wax seal and unfolded the letter.

_Orva,_

_I do not know why you have not left my Opera House yet. If you do not disappear eternally soon, then I shall be forced to remove you personally. As for the request detailed in your letter, I find it the most absurd, random, and ridiculous kind any presumably sane person can make. But if it will make you leave sooner, then reply I shall._

_I admit to being infatuated with Ms. Daa__é, perhaps on a level that is slightly above that which people on the surface world may consider "normal."_

_Are you satisfied now? Do you get some sort of pleasure in knowing The Phantom's only weakness? Enjoy it while you can, for you shall not know it for long._

_O.G._

Orva immediately raised her hand to eye level and looked furtively around her. Then she sighed. _Well, at least he's admitted it. Step one complete._


	7. Chapter 7: To Choke a Rose

**NOTE: **I own nothing except Orva.

* * *

"_You're so amazing..._

_You are..._

_You are..._

_Oooo~ooo..._" Orva sang, her entire mind consumed with the task of not stuttering.

"Excellent!" Christine cheered. "You were able to sing with your eyes open this time!"

"I-I w-was horribly o-off-key though," she complained.

"Well, yes, but with a bit more practice maybe you can pass as a chorus girl?"

"M-maybe."

"Oh, are you sure I can't come? I could hide somewhere and sing the song, while you pretend to be singing it," she sighed.

Orva shook her head. "N-no. I-it's too o-open, too bright. Th-there aren't any good h-hiding spots, or at least n-none close enough to truly make i-it seem like I'm singing, without exposing y-you."

"Hmm...I suppose you're right. Also, hadn't you said there would be no more accidents, that The Phantom would disappear for three months?"

She bit her lip. "Th-that w-was...what w-was _supposed_ to h-happen...but I think I-I ticked him off."

"How so?"

"L-l-let's t-try again w-with the song..."

-0-0-

With a weary sigh, Orva collapsed onto her bed. With all the work that came with being a stage hand, singing and mannerisms lessons with Christine, being worried and scared for her father and missing him so much that she never even took off his sweater-vest anymore(though it needed a wash by this point), being worried about the plan and what lies in store for her in the future, fearing for her life, constantly walking around with her hand at the level of her eyes, and always testing the ground before her before taking a step, it was no wonder she was knocked nearly unconscious at the end of every day. Except she could never really fall asleep, because what if the Phantom tried to kill her while she was sleeping?

That had actually happened before, along with his many other attempts to kill her. Everywhere she went, something would fall, just barely not killing her due to her now hyperactive senses. Her foot had been sprained repeatedly, her shoulder dislocated, and her skull had even been cracked once on a particularly well-aimed shot. Loose floorboards and trap doors, leaving her with scrapes and cuts and scars on her legs, and bruises on her arms whenever she had to grab onto the nearby ledge and desperately pull herself up. At night, she had to sleep like a cat, with a lead pipe clutched in her hands like a teddy bear.

The time when he'd tried to kill her in her sleep, he'd nearly succeeded. Luckily a nice shot in an area that men have a tendency to prize above all else managed to make him back off enough so that she could get up and alert some people. But by then, of course, he'd disappeared back into the shadows.

Orva sighed. "M-maybe I-I should j-just die from a-a panic attack..." With a groan she sat herself up. Reaching into the folds of her shirt, she pulled out a slightly crumpled-looking white rose. She'd gotten it from one of Christine's bouquets from her many admirers. She placed it in the vase beside her bed, the filled the vase with water. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a small box of blueberries. She crushed the blueberries into her hand, letting the juices dribble into the water. As an afterthought, she took out the black ribbon from the forgotten rose, and tied it around the white one. "H-hopefully i-it'll be r-ready by the t-time the Masquerade Ball r-rolls around." With that, she laid back down on top of the pillows and covers. Reaching over the side and pulling out her pipe from under the bed, she settled her self for a light sleep.

0-0-0

_**This** time, I will not fail. This time for sure I'll kill her. I've got a good feeling about this time..._ Erik prep-talked himself on his way to where Orva 'slept'. The girl had proven to be much craftier and survival-versed than he had originally thought. She kept her hand at the level of her eyes, so that her could never strangle her with his noose. She never went anywhere alone, always testing things out and keeping a fast eye about her. _Damn her._

Once again, and hopefully for the last time, he'd reached the wall that opened out directly next to her bed. He checked his pocket to make sure the chloroform-soaked cloth was still there. With a slight press the wall swung open. He stepped out, and turned to inspect her 'sleeping' form. He'd long since learned to not trust whether or not she was asleep. He took as stealthy and quiet steps as possible towards her, even monitoring his breathing. He took out the cloth, and leaning over, quickly pressed it to her face. At first she started, making a noise of protest. But then her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she fell, completely unconscious this time.

Smiling to himself, he took out his Punjab Lasso and slipped the noose around her neck. Double-checking the knot, he tightened it so that it would fit snugly around her neck. He then braced a foot on her back, preparing to pull the life out of her, when something in his peripheral stopped him. He looked up to see a white rose with a black ribbon tied around it, sitting in a vase. _Is that...the one I gave her?_ Had she really kept it this long? Despite all his attempts on her life? How had he not noticed it there before, and how had it not died by this time? His grip on the lasso slackened. Such a simple, pretty little thing. It's little white petals seeming to glow innocently in the moonlight. The black ribbon around it glittered.

He looked back down at the girl. Purity, Innocence, Youthfulness, and Secrecy. Her white-rose colored skin beneath the freckles seemed to hold all these meanings. But once again, his eyes brought him to the completely contradicting, coral rose-colored lips. Desire.

-0-0-

Slowly, slowly, she felt her grasp on the world return. Her mind tried to remember the last thing that had happened, going through each of her memories of the previous day, and landing on when a black-gloved hand had shoved a foul-smelling cloth on her face-

With a wild gasp Orva sat up, her pipe raised. It was early morning, the bright light filtering through the nearby window. _I'm...alive?_ But she was sure it'd been Erik last night, Erik who'd managed to sneak up on her and knock her out with some sort of poison or drug. _Probably chloroform._ She gave a harsh chuckles, remembering a funny joke her friend had once made on the subject. It's like a guy asks you, "Does this smell like chloroform?" and shoves a cloth soaked with the stuff in your face, and then as you faint you say, "Why yes it does..." or "Be gentle..." before fainting. She turned to gaze upon the white rose. Already, it's color had changed so that the inner parts of the petals looked the palest of blues. It would be ready for the party.


	8. Chapter 8: Glad you Came

**NOTE: **I own nothing except Orva.

* * *

Before stepping into the light, Orva quickly checked her wig to make sure the blue rose was still hidden within it. Sighing in relief, she walked inside. She donned her best 'Christine' smile at the performance of the Masquerade Ball. Finally, after three months, it had arrived. While the time hadn't been entirely peaceful, the last few weeks leading up to it had been. So now, after so much training and preparation, Orva disguised as Christine could fool them all. She gave a friendly wave to the people she knew Christine was familiar with, but never approached them for a conversation. Too much was hanging in the balance on this night. If she relaxed too much and let her stuttering problem be exposed, then her disguise and everything else would fall apart. She kept her eye trained on the top of the staircase, where Erik was planning to make his big entrance. She couldn't screw up, nothing could-

"Christine!" a cheerful voice greeted from behind her.

Orva turned to see Raoul approaching her. _**Fuck**_.

"Christine, how are you? You look gorgeous in that dress, " he complimented.

"R-Raoul, I-" she tried to say. _Fucking speech impediment._

"Christine, where's the ring I gave you?" he asked, a confused look coming over his face.

"No, Raoul, lllisten, I'm not Christine, I'm-"

"Not Christine? But then- oh I get it!" he said, giving her a little wink. "After all, I'm not really Raoul."

"Nnnot Raoul?"

"Nope. Tonight, I'm someone else. So who are you tonight?"

Orva face palmed. "I'm Casper..." she ground out.

"Who's Casper?"

"Look, Raul, can you just go away for now? I'm kind of in the middle of something."

"What? Christine, what are you saying?"

Orva put a comforting hand on his cheek. "Just gooo and hang ooout onnnn the oooother side of the rrrrroom hon."

"Christine, I don't understand-"

"Go!" she snapped, pushing him away from her. He stumbled back, a hurt look on his face. She quickly whipped her head back around at the staircase, just in time to see a man dressed completely in red and wearing a skull mask step out. Suddenly, everything inside Orva seized up, and she felt like running away. But her subconscious knew that she had to interrupt his entrance, and in a panic she started belting out the first song she could think of.

"_The sun goes down_

_the stars come out_

_and all that counts_

_is here and now,_" she sang, the appropriate music suddenly playing in the air, causing everyone to stop and stare. Orva herself forced her eyes to stay open and look in Erik's generally direction, while her mind consumed itself with the task of improvising a new routine, remembering the lyrics, staying on key, and not stuttering.

"_My universe will _

_never be the same_

_I'm glad you came..._" She seized the instrumental pause as the opportunity to start walking towards a very bewildered looking Erik.

"_You cast a spell on me_

_spell on me._

_You hit me like the sky fell on me_

_fell on me._" She finally reached him and started circling him.

"_And I've decided you look well on me_

_well on me._

_So lets go somewhere no one else can see_

_you and me._" She grabbed his hand and with the other pinched out a couple nearby candles.

"_Turn the lights out now._

_Now I take you by the hand_

_Hand you another drink._" As she sang this she suddenly pressed herself so close to him that their mouths were a mere breath apart.

"_Drink it if you can._" She then broke away, and started leading him down the stairs.

"_Can you spend a little time?_

_Time is slipping away_

_away from us so stay._

_Stay with me I can make_

_make you glad you came._" They reached the main floor, and Orva quickly swung Erik around and started dancing with him. She knew she probably looked awful trying to dance, but she hoped that the completely different genre and general bizarreness of her actions would help to cover this up.

"_The sun goes down_

_the stars come out_

_and all that counts_

_is here and now._

_My universe will _

_never be the same_

_I'm glad you came_

_I'm glad you came._" She thanked each and every one of her lucky stars that Erik seemed to be going with it. With him taking the lead, she felt her dancing become a little bit more graceful. It was only when she quickly broke apart to do a quick bit of modern dancing did she feel estranged. Which was often. But luckily, Erik played along with this as well.

"_You cast a spell on me_

_spell on me,_" Erik suddenly sung out, almost making Orva stumble in shock.

_"__You hit me like the sky fell on me_

_fell on me._

_And I've decided you look well on me_

_well on me._

_So lets go somewhere no one else can see_

_you and me._" As he sang this he kept pulling her closer and closer.

"_Turn the lights out now._

_Now I take you by the hand,_" Orva quickly took over the next part, twirling herself around so they were back to back. _Damn the repetitive nature of this song! _she rued in her head. That must've been how Erik had managed to catch on to the lyrics.

"_Hand you another drink._

_Drink it if you can._" She felt Erik grab her hand and spin her around so they were facing each other again, at arm's length.

"_Can you spend a little time?_

_Time is slipping away_

_away from us so stay,_" he sung.

_"Stay with me I can make_

_make you glad you came._"

"_The sun goes down_

_the stars come out_

_and all that counts_

_is here and now,_" they started singing together, his voice easily masking the defaults in her own.

"_My universe will _

_never be the same_

_I'm glad you came_

_I'm glad you came._" While before Orva could easily feel all the eyes on her and Erik, staring, judging, and undoubtedly seeing through the farce, those eyes seemed to disappear, save for one pair.

"_I'm glad you _came." One pair of mismatched eyes, one brown and one blue, that stared deeply into her. The face to which they belonged to gave her a suave smile while it sung. Within that face seemed to be everything she could hope for.

"_So glad you came._

_I'm glad you came._

_I'm glad you came._" Finally their dance started to slow down with the music, the two of them gently ending on a few more rotations.

"_The sun goes down_

_the stars come out_

_and all that counts_

_is here and now._

_My universe will _

_never be the same_

_I'm glad you came_

_I'm glad you came..._" As the final word was sung, he slowly lowered her into a little dip. The music faded, until there was nothing but silence. Then, applause at the random but interesting performance. Erik straightened Orva out, Orva still gazing at him as her brain tried to remember what it was supposed to do next. _Oh yeah._

"Evvvveryone!" Orva called out, getting their attention. "This is my good friend Erik." She felt Erik give her hand a little squeeze, a squeeze which she returned to imply the idea that she's lying and doesn't really know that Erik is his true name.

"Ah, Erik what?" Andre prompted, stepping forward.

"D-de Bologna," Orva quickly made up, inwardly wincing at the stutter. The people nearby gave her a funny look.

"Ah, well, welcome to the Masquerade, de Bologna.," Firmin said. The two business partners walked away, and soon everybody went back to their own business. With a sigh of relief Orva turned to Erik.

"Christine, that was...interesting," Erik told her. It took a few moments for Orva to remember she was still disguised as Christine.

"Oh, um, yes. I thought I'd try something new," she told him.

"Ah, that would explain why your voice sounded so off."

She blushed and looked down at her feet. "I-I'm sorry."

He lightly took a hold of her chin and lifted her face back up to his. "It's okay. The words in the song held more meaning and passion than I've ever seen you give off before," he complimented. She gave him a shy little smile.

"So, what brings you to the ball?" she asked, hoping that he would present _Don Juan Triumphant_ himself.

"Well, I _was_ going to spoil everyone's fun and deliver this opera I wrote..." he admitted, reaching into his cloak and pulling it out. "But I think now instead I'd like to spend some time with you."

"Oh d-don't worry, I'll make sure the managers get it." She took the opera from him, tucking it under her arm. "In the meantime, I suppose it can't hurt to enjoy ourselves here." Even as she was saying it, she felt her heartbeat go faster at the idea of holding up the disguise for much longer after what should've been such an exposing fiasco.

"Uh, actually, it's rather bright here, isn't it? Perhaps we could go somewhere a little darker...and have a little party of our own?" he suggested, his voice becoming more and more quiet as he spoke.

"D-do you mean...down where you live?" Orva asked, feeling the warning bells go off in her head.

"Er...yes..."

_Too soon! If we go now, we could be going too soon!_ her brain yelled out in warning, trying to remind her excited heart. "Oh, dear, I'd love to, but..." her eyes flickered over to a heartbroken and confused looking Raoul who stood in the corner. "Not n-now. Instead-" she reached into the layers of hair in her wig, and pulled out the blue rose, a white ribbon tied around the stem. She held it out to Erik, who gasped.

"A blue rose! But, how-?" he started to ask.

"Take it," she interrupted, grabbing his hand and pressing the rose into it. "When you look at it, I want it to remind you of the status of our relationship..." With that she slowly turned and walked away.

"W-wait! Christine!" She heard him call after her, but she just walked faster.

_There...now we're ready for tomorrow,_ she thought in satisfaction.

0-0-0

He watched her disappear around the corner, ignoring his call. He looked back down at the rose. How she'd managed to procure one, he may never know. But it was absolutely gorgeous in it's exotic and ethereal beauty. The petals were a deep blue, close to the color of blueberries. They glittered in the candle light, holding secrets and wishes within their sapphire darkness. The white ribbon tied around it was lacy on the edges, shiny and fancy looking.

_Impossible_. That's what the blue rose represented, impossibility. It'd taken him a few seconds, but he realized that Christine meant that a relationship between them was impossible. _Why?_ She had clearly displayed a great amount of interest in him with the flirtatious and erotic style of her song. As he thought, somebody brushed past him. He looked up to see the retreating form of the Count de Chagny leaving the Ball as well, turning around the same corner Christine did, as if to follow her...

He almost gasped aloud at a sudden realization. _That de Chagny man...he must be black-mailing her!_ Now it all made sense! Christine did love him, but she was being black-mailed into staying away, and being with someone as detestable as Raoul. Erik felt his heart soar within him. Stowing the rose-turn-cry-for-help within the folds of his cloak, he turned and swiftly left the party as well. _Don't worry Christine, I'll rescue you from that fiend..._

-0-0-

With a sigh of relief Orva quickly closed the door to Christine's room behind her.

"Oh hello! How'd it go?" Christine greeted with a cheerful smile, turning to face her from where she sat in front of the make-up desk.

"_S-s-so_ n-n-not l-like h-h-how w-we'd p-planned," Orva sighed, taking off her wig and plopping down on the bed. She then reached over and grabbed her rainbow ear cuff, slipping it back onto her left ear.

"What happened?" she asked, her brow furrowing.

"W-w-well, y-y-your f-fiancee R-R-Raoul sh-showed u-up a-a-and c-completely d-distracted m-me. B-b-by th-the w-way, I-I m-may h-h-have b-broken h-his h-heart. A-anyway, b-by th-th-the t-time I-I c-could l-look b-back u-up Th-Th-The Ph-Phantom w-was a-already a-arriving! I-I j-just p-panicked a-a-and st-started s-singing th-the f-first s-song I-I c-could th-think o-of, " she lamented.

"You think he suspects something?"

"N-n-no, I-I-I m-managed t-t-to r-roll w-with i-i-it a-and p-pull th-the wh-wh-whole th-thing o-off. H-hopefully, e-everything e-e-else w-will st-still c-continue a-as p-planned, a-a-and to-tomorrow I-I c-can t-take y-your p-place."

"What are you going to do?"

"I-i-in th-th-the e-early m-m-morning I-I'll g-go t-t-to th-the c-cemetery. Th-then, st-st-still i-in th-the e-early m-morning b-b-but n-not q-quite s-so e-early a-as m-m-me, you'll go there to. I'm sure th-that when there you'll be overcome with the ir-irresistible desire to sing a rather melancholy song. While s-singing, we'll switch places, and I'll pretend to be the o-one singing, when really it's still you, hiding among the tombstones," she explained. "Th-The Ph-Phantom will b-be there, and st-start singing as well. H-he'll lure me into a t-trap in your father's grave, and t-take me away to his home. That's w-when you and Raoul have to run-"

"Christine!" came Raoul's voice with some hearty knocks on the door.

"Sp-speak o-of the d-devil," Orva murmured as she quickly leapt behind the nearby changing screen, just as the door swung open.

"Christine, I-" Raul stopped. "How'd you change so fast?" he asked.

"Change?" Christine asked, donning an innocent smile.

"From your costume at the Masquerade, and I see you're wearing my engagement ring around your neck again."

"I was never at the Masquerade," she told him, which was technically true.

"Yes you were, I saw you, I spoke with you!"

"Hm." She shrugged. "It must have been someone pretending to be me. It was a Masquerade after all..." She stood up and walked over to him, slipping her arms around his neck.

He stared. "So...that _wasn't_ you singing at the party and flirting with that Erik friend of yours?"

"I don't even know anybody named Erik," she said, giving him a kiss. "Whoever it was though, she must have been amazing to have fooled even you."

"Y-yeah..." Raoul agreed, slowly relaxing. "She looked just like you, except her voice sounded a little quieter, and her singing could barely pass for a chorus girl. Also, not that I was paying attention, but her breasts looked a bit smaller." Behind the screen, Orva stuck her tongue out at him.

"Well, whoever it was is gone now." Christine gave him another kiss, which he returned. "It's rather late now though, so why don't we go to sleep?"

"No!" he said suddenly. "You go to sleep, I want to keep guard outside. Even though we haven't seen him in a while, tonight it felt as though I had brushed right past him..."

"Well, keep guard if you like," she soothed. He nodded, and walked outside. Orva stepped out from behind the screen, her contacts now in her hand.

"I-I sh-should probably g-get going, huh?" she asked.

"That would be best," Christine agreed. With a nod Orva quickly took off the disguise and put back on her regular clothes. She stepped back out into the hall and started walking towards her own bed in the ballerina dormitories.

"Hey!" a voice called from down the hall. Orva looked up to see Nathan coming towards her. "Where'ya going? Me and the boys have been looking all over for you! Come over and join the party," he invited, a slightly drunken smile on his face.

"O-oh, th-that's very k-kind..." Orva said, trying to keep a straight face as the smell of alcohol permeated the air. "B-but I-I'm very t-tired. I think I-I'd rather just go t-to bed."

"You sure?"

"Y-yes."

He shrugged. "Suit yourself." And with that he walked off.

Orva watched him go. "C-careful w-where you st-step!" she called after him. No sooner had she said this than he tripped over something and fell flat on his face. Orva rolled her eyes and continued on her way. _Very soon now...my life will surely end._


	9. Chapter 9: Graveyard Fracas

**NOTE: **I own nothing except Orva.

* * *

As instructed, Christine stepped lightly through the wrought iron gates into the cemetery. She wandered around, when suddenly she started to hear soft, rather sad music playing. Before she even knew what she was doing, she'd opened her mouth and was singing.

"_You were once_

_my one companion._

_You were all _

_that mattered..._" she sang, wondering where those lyrics were coming from, and also where Orva was.

"_You were once_

_a friend and father_

_then my world_

_was shattered..._" As she passed under an arch, she felt someone tap her shoulder. She turned to see herself. Without breaking out of song, she quickly switched places with Orva, who continued walking with the bouquet now in her hands, her mouth moving as though she was singing. Christine took to crouching low among the tombstones, following close by so the illusion wouldn't be lost.

"_Wishing you were_

_somehow here again_

_wishing you were_

_somehow near..._

_Sometimes it seemed_

_if I just dreamed_

_somehow you_

_would be here..._

_Wishing I could_

_hear your voice again_

_Knowing that_

_I never would..._

_Dreaming of you_

_won't help me to do_

_All that you_

_dreamed I could..._

_Passing bells_

_and sculpted angels_

_Cold and monumental..._

_Seem for you_

_the wrong companions._

_You were warm_

_and gentle..._" She paused for breath; crawling around and singing in a loud voice was surprisingly exhausting on the lungs. From her place among the graves, she watched as Orva continued making her way to her father's grave.

"_Too many years_

_fighting back tears._

_Why can't the_

_past just die?..._

_Wishing you were_

_somehow here again_

_knowing we must_

_say goodbye..._

_Try to forgive_

_teach me to live_

_Give me the_

_strength to try!..._" They finally arrived at Christine's father's grave.

"_No more memories_

_no more silent tears_

_no more gazing_

_across the wasted years..._" Suddenly Orva sat down on the ground.

"_Help me_

_say goodbye..._

_Help me_

_say goodbye..._" Christine finished. A few moments of vocal silence passed, but the music never truly faded.

"_Wandering child_

_so lost_

_so helpless_

_yearning for_

_my guidance..._" a voice suddenly sang from somewhere else in the graveyard. Both Christine and Orva looked up.

_The Phantom!_ Christine realized in shock.

"_Angel or father_

_friend or Phantom_

_who is it there_

_staring?_" Christine asked, even though she already knew the answer.

"_Have you forgotten_

_your Angel?_" he sang, still unseen.

"_Angel, oh speak_

_what endless_

_longings echo_

_in this whisper?_" From across the way, Christine saw Orva stand back up. To her shock she saw an orange light starting to come from her father's graves, and the gates swung slowly open. _This is it, _she thought, feeling a stab of guilt and sorrow, _the moment where she takes my place..._

"_Too long you've_

_wandered in winter..._

_Far from my_

_fathering gaze..._"

"_Wildly my mind_

_beats against you..._"

"_You resist..._"

"_Yet your/the_

_soul obeys..._" they sang together. Orva slowly started walking towards the grave, as if to walk inside.

"_Angel of Music_

_you/I denied you/me_

_turning from true beauty..._

_Angel of Music_

_do not shun me/my protector_

_come to your/me_

_strange Angel..._"

"_I am your_

_Angel of Music..._

_Come to me_

_Angel of Music..._" The Phantom sang, as Orva slowly reached the top of the stairs.

"NO! Christine, wait!" a voice yelled in the distance.

0-0-0

Deep inside, Orva cursed the forgetfulness of her early morning self. _Shit, how could I have forgotten about Raoul?_ She picked up the pace, walking straight for the hellish light that sent off all kinds of warning signals in her head.

"Wait!" he yelled again. C'mon, just a few more steps and she'd be done with it... Just a few more feet and she'd be inside the grave... But suddenly she was grabbed by the shoulder and whipped around to face Raoul. "Whatever you may believe, this man, this thing, is not your father!" he told her before turning away, pulling out his sword.

"R-Raoul, I-" Orva tried to say, but then when she saw something in peripheral and she gasped on instinct. Sure enough, Erik leapt from his position on top the grave, his own sword out. The two men began to fight. Orva quickly turned and ran to where Christine hid. She grabbed her by the shoulders and threw her out there. "G-go b-back now, w-while they're distracted!" she hissed.

"But I-" Christine tried to argue.

"G-go! Y-you must l-leave with Raoul!" she urged, crouching down behind the gravestone. Christine gave a nod of understanding before running out into the main area. Meanwhile, Orva worked as fast she could to remove the disguise. She ripped off the wig and nearly poked her eyes out removing the contacts. She then grabbed as much snow as she could and rubbed it on her face, trying to get rid of the makeup. As a final touch, she took out the rainbow ear cuff from within the bodice of her dress, and stuck it on.

Soon she heard the clanging of swords end, and Christine yell out, "No Raoul! No...not like this."

Peeking from behind her tombstone, Orva saw Raoul and Christine mount his white horse and ride off. _Of course it's a white horse..._ she thought with a roll of her eyes. Then she looked over at Erik. As he pushed himself to his feet, picking up his sword, she stood up and walked toward him. "H-hey."

He whirled around, the tip of his sword landing at her throat. "Oh," he said with a groan. "It's _you_."

"G-good m-morning to y-you too," she replied, snarky.

"What do you want?" He re-sheathed his sword.

"I-I s-saw that wh-whole fracas. I m-must say, that was a-a fairly big fail..."

"Are you satisfied?" he asked, turning on her. "By the way, you were wrong. Christine has made it quite clear to me that she loves me as well."

_Oh God, what have I done?_ "R-right...I-I'm totally s-sure she does. Th-that's why she left w-with Raoul, right-" She was interrupted when he punched her in the face. With a loud thump she fell backward into the snow. After lying dazed for a few moments she sat up, feeling the area around her eye. _Yup, that's gonna turn black by tomorrow._

"...Why are you even here?" he suddenly asked.

"H-huh?"

"You have an odd habit of showing up at exactly the right time to try and kick me while I'm down," he accused, taking a menacing step closer.

With a small gulp she quickly scrambled to her feet. "I-I-I'm j-just here...b-because...I like c-cemeteries?"

"Is that a question?"

"N-no."

"Why is your clothing remarkably similar to what Christine is wearing?"

"D-dude, b-black is l-like, so _in_ th-this year..."

"Why is your face wet?"

"I-I t-tripped and f-fell in the s-snow."

He continued to glare at her, his eyes narrowed. Orva couldn't help but lean back a little, wearing a bad poker face. "...Fine," he eventually said. With a flourish of his cloak he turned and started to walk away.

"Ph-Ph-Phantom!" she called out.

"What?" Erik asked, turning back around.

"U-um, i-it's just...c-can you give m-me a ride back?"

He stared. "..._What?_"

"I-it's j-just, I h-have no way b-back, and I know y-you came here by carriage, s-so-"

"How did you get here in the first place?"

"I-I, u-um, magic," she blurted out, not wanting to say that she'd actually woken up at midnight to walk there.

"Magic? You expect me to believe that you got here by magic?"

"W-well a-aren't you a-a magician? C'mon m-man, I just need th-this one favor..."

0-0-0

_How did I let her talk me into this?_ he complained in his head, driving the carriage back to the Opera House with a distinctive grumpy slouch in his posture. Why did he even care? She was nothing to him except some stage hand who kept getting in his way and trying to break his heart. Who knew the language of roses. And had held on to his rose for an incredible amount of time. He glanced over his shoulder at her, then did a double-take. She was asleep! No wonder she'd been so quiet on the way back.

_Perfect, now's my chance!_ He got down from his seat and walked over to her. He could leave her here in the wilderness, where she could be eaten by wolves, catch her death, or just straight up die of starvation. The idea excited him. But as he was about to grab her, something stopped him. He froze, staring. It started to snow, and a few lazy flakes gently landed on his gloved hands, and on her nose and in her hair. Come to think of it, he'd never really taken the time to observe her when she was asleep. Awake she always had this skittish, awkward look about her. Like she was afraid of her own shadow, or was covered in mud. And she acted as though she was a piece of furniture, something that could be used once and then tossed aside. Always so fearful and shy. A state of being that did nothing for her doll-like eyes.

But now...now she looked so peaceful. Peaceful to the point where at first glance she could appear dead, but closer inspection revealed the steady rise and fall of her rib cage. Her long dark lashes rested gently on her freckled cheeks, catching little tiny snow flakes. Her skin, white as a white rose, except her lips, which were coral rose colored. Innocent Desire. It also occurred to him this was the first time he saw her wearing woman's clothing. Now he could see that her baggy boy's clothing had actually been hiding a lot more than he'd originally thought.

She was so much skinnier than he could have imagined, it was almost a little frightening. The tight bodice of the dress showed that he could probably count each individual bone if he wanted to. He imagined that if he placed a hand over her heart, he'd be able to feel every little beat it made. Her arms, so thin that they looked unnaturally long. He was amazed she was able to keep up with the work of a stage hand at all. It was as though the flesh of her body was intended for someone much smaller, but that her bones were too big for her. So small, so afraid.

Yet she didn't seem to fear him. Not really. Without ever really knowing him, she kept approaching him. She spoke with him, made an active effort to contact him. Sent him a rose to say she'll keep his secret. Kept his rose for as long as possible. Hid him before he even knew that he had to hide. She treated him as if he was completely normal. Even now, she acted as though they were friend-enemies. Not even sweet Christine did all that.

Suddenly, she started shivering. He slowly straightened himself back up. Fixing the cloth around his head, he climbed back onto the driver's bench, picked up the reigns, and kicked the horses back into movement. As they rode back, a single thought kept plaguing his mind.

_Why haven't I killed her yet?_


	10. Chapter 10: BackUp Plan

**NOTE: **I own nothing except Orva.

* * *

Her eyes flickered open. It took her a few moments of lying still before she could remember everything, and promptly gasp in surprise and sit up. She looked around herself, surprised to find that she was in her bed. Last she remembered, she'd been sitting in the carriage as Erik took them both back to the Opera House. Could she have fallen asleep on the way back? It would make sense, she had been awfully tired. But then, how did she get to bed? _He couldn't have carried me,_ she decided. He hated her too much. _I suppose it doesn't matter so much._ With a sigh she got out of bed, and starting walking to Christine's room.

"C-Christine?" she asked, knocking on the door. It quickly swung open to reveal a rather guilty looking singer.

"Oh, hello Orva," she greeted, letting her in. "What happened to your eye?" It had already turned yellow.

"H-he p-punched me." Orva paused at the sight of Raoul sitting in the chair. There was a stern look on his face.

"O-oh, h-hello Raoul," she greeted casually.

"Why didn't you want Christine to tell me all about what you two were doing?" he suddenly shot out.

For a few minutes, Orva stood still. Then she slowly turned to face Christine. "Y-you t-told him?"

"I had to, Orva!" she reasoned. "I couldn't lie to him forever, especially not after he risked his life for me."

Orva face palmed. "I-I d-didn't want h-him to know b-because he's too heroic!" she complained.

"Too heroic?" Raoul repeated.

Orva nodded. "I-if w-we'd let y-you in on th-this, then undoubtedly you w-would've kept doing something to t-try and protect us both. What's m-more, these operations have to be kept a-as secretive as possible; no one is supposed t-to know." She sighed. "B-but I-I suppose i-it doesn't matter a-any more. We've now r-reached a point where we w-would've have had to fill you in a-anyways."

"Orva, what comes next? Surely you have a back-up plan?" Christine asked, lightly touching her arm.

Orva raised an eyebrow. _Nice to see you're worried about yourself here._ Without answering, she slowly walked over to the bed and sat down on it, her back slouched and her head bowed low. "I-I d-didn't want i-it to come t-to this, above all e-else I wanted to stop th-this before we got so close t-to it."

"So close to what?" Raoul asked.

"...Th-The P-Point of N-No Return," Orva answered softly. "I-it's th-that point th-that I wanted t-to avoid at all c-costs. If we hit that p-point, then everything we've been doing u-up until now will be wasted effort. Th-things can never go back to the way th-they were before after that. No matter what, we c-can't let it happen, or at least not in the w-way I've seen it happen." With a sigh, she looked up. "I-I d-do have a-a back-up p-plan, but it's one I-I wanted to avoid because o-of how risky it is."

"What is it?" Christine asked.

She pushed herself back onto her feet. "W-we're g-going to p-perform his opera, _D-Don Juan Triumphant_. There's a-a song in that titled _Th-The Point of No Return_. Disguised a-as Christine, I will go out there o-on the stage and pretend to be performing i-it. Christine, meanwhile, will hide below the stage among th-the musicians, doing the real singing. The Phantom will appear, h-having taken the place of Piangi in the production. He and I-I will sing, but at the end of the number he will s-switch to a completely different song, and confess his love. I will go a-along with it, and hopefully we'll just jump through a trap-door in the st-stage. That's when you and maybe Raoul must disappear from the Opera House forever. Either w-way, you can never be seen there again."

Silence. "S-surely there must be another way-" Raoul started to say.

"N-no R-Raoul," Orva snapped. "Th-there i-is no o-other way. Trust m-me, I _wish_ there w-was some other way, but th-there isn't. See? This is why I-I didn't want to tell you. Already y-you're trying to be heroic. But your heroism w-will do nothing for us this time. This time, w-we can only rely on cunning and lies." Raoul bowed his head. Orva relaxed. "I-if w-we tried d-doing this some o-other way, I'm certain th-that a great deal of p-people will die, just like how I-I saw it in the vision. If w-we want to avoid such a tragedy, you're g-going to have to trust me on what I s-say, and follow my instructions implicitly."

"...Alright," Raoul agreed. Suddenly, they heard a scream from down below. They all quickly rushed out of the room in the direction of the screams, which ended up being in the back-stage area. "What's going on?" Raoul asked, catching a fleeing chorus girl by the arm.

"It's one of the stage hands, he's dead! The Phantom's struck again!" she quickly relayed before running off.

Orva felt her heartbeat pick up. "Th-this w-way!" she said, running to the source of the cries. As they got closer, Orva looked up in the air, and then froze. She could only stare in shock and horror. Somewhere deep inside of her, she felt something drop at the sight of who the corpse was.

It was Nathan.

0-0-0

He sat playing at his organ, completely relaxed. He'd been meaning to kill Orva for such a long time, yet had never managed to do so yet. It'd been driving him up the wall, so after a while he'd settled on murdering her friend. And by _God_ did that put his mind at ease. While not exactly the same, it was comforting enough that he killed someone who was actually very close to her. Perhaps he should start killing her other friends, just to satisfy himself some more...

He shook his head, turning back to the music. _Maybe some other time, but for now there's no reason to. _After all, it was Orva he wanted to kill in the end. _I think..._


	11. Chapter 11: The Point of No Return

**NOTE: **I own nothing except Orva.

* * *

Orva, Raoul, Christine, Meg, and one of the costume designers that was a friend of both Orva and Nathan(named Melody), sat in a circle near the stage. Raoul, Christine, and Meg all sat in respectful silence while the two friends sat in grief. Melody stared into the distance with her sad gray eyes, while Orva sat hunched over a mug of hot chocolate. She looked into the brown, steaming depths of the drink, while not really seeing it at all. Funny, how you never realize how much you care about someone until they're gone.

"Ah!" Raoul suddenly said, causing all the women except Orva to jump. "Orva, why don't you sing a song? I'm sure that'll help to cheer us all up."

"Raoul, I don't think she wants to sing," Christine said quietly.

"As if she could!" A couple of chorus girls had been overhearing their conversation. The one speaking had long black hair tied into a bun. "Haven't you noticed how much she stutters? She's probably too stupid to sing."

"That's not true," Christine defended. "She just sings in a different style from us. And she's not _that_ bad."

"Hah! So says you. Why I bet she-"

"I-I w-want to s-sing," Orva said suddenly.

"What?" Chirstine asked, turning to face her. Orva looked up, a determined look on her face.

"I-I w-want to s-sing," she repeated, setting her hot chocolate down and pushing herself from the chair.

"Oh, this is gonna be good," the chorus girl commented as Orva walked past her to stand on the stage. For a few minutes, Orva stood there, gazing out at the empty auditorium, thinking of what song to sing. When she picked one, she closed her eyes and started tapping her heel. Soon the right music started playing, in tune with the beat her heel had picked.

"_Sitting in the back_

_of the bus._

_Talking about nothing_

_oh we're talking_

_about us,_" she sang, surprising them when she didn't stutter and actually sounded on key. Orva, meanwhile, was subconsciously grateful she could easily hide her stuttering problem in all the prolonged notes and sounds that often occurred in music.

"_Watching as the world_

_goes hammering on_

_hammering on..._

_You say that you_

_got nothing left_

_there's nothing left _

_in you to find._

_You're gonna ride it out_

_gonna wait it out_

_Living to die_

_you're living to die..._" A small crowd started to gather, surprised that the stuttering stage hand could sing worth a bone in her body. Her voice echoed out, her eyes screwed shut in apparent emotion and concentration.

"_No one's gonna_

_wait for you..._

_No one's gonna _

_wait for you..._

_So do it now..._

_Do it right now..._

_Don't waste a minute_

_on the darkness and_

_the pity sitting_

_in your mind and_

_Do it right now..._

_Do it right now..._"

0-0-0

Suddenly, he overheard someone singing, her voice echoing all the way down to where he was. Erik looked up, listening curiously to the strange style of the song. _Christine?_ he thought hopefully, grabbing his cloak and rushing out to go see her sing.

0-0-0

After waiting on the instrumental pause, Orva picked up on the next part of the song.

"_Everything will stop_

_on a dime._

_Everything will crash_

_into itself in good time,_" she sang.

"_Do you want to_

_beat your own heart_

_beat your own heart_

_or leave it behind?..._

_Leave it behind..._

_No one's gonna_

_wait for you..._

_No one's gonna_

_wait for you..._"

0-0-0

Keeping to the shadows of Box Five, his eyes immediately focused on the figure standing in middle of the stage, obviously the one singing. But instead of Christine, he saw Orva. _Her? But, how-?_ His own thoughts were interrupted when she continued singing, her eyes shut in concentration.

"_So do it now..._

_Do it right now..._

_Don't wast a minute_

_on the darkness and_

_the pity sitting_

_in your mind,_" she sang. Except, her singing sounded exactly how Christine had sung at the Masquerade, in exactly the same completely different and unique style that he'd never heard Christine sing– He gasped in shock, the puzzle pieces sliding into place.

"_And do it right now..._

_Do it right now..._" Of course! Now it all made sense. It'd never been Christine at the party, it'd been Orva. Orva, who'd somehow managed to disguise herself as Christine. The realization crippled him, making him grab at his chest in pain, tears stinging his eyes.

"_I'm gonna get up_

_I'm gonna get right_

_out of my bed_

_get out of my bed._" None of them, neither of them had ever truly cared for him. All of it, all of it had been just an act! Even Christine, his would-be savior, had been acting from the very start. He glared furiously at Orva, the puppet-master, the orchestrator behind all this.

"_You're gonna stand up_

_you're gonna stand right_

_up again_

_stand right up again._" Indeed he will. How **dare** she? What was she even trying to do? Get close to him so that she could kill him?

"_I'm gonna get up_

_I'm gonna get out_

_of my bed_

_get out of my head._" Nobody fools The Phantom! She would pay dearly for this.

"_You're gonna stand up_

_you're gonna stand up_

_you're gonna stand up!..._

_You're gonna stand up..._" If looks could kill, she'd have spontaneously combusted.

"_So do it now!..._

_Do it right now..._

_Don't waste a minute_

_on the darkness and_

_the pity sitting_

_in your mind and_

_Do it right now..._

_Do it right now..._

_Do it right now,_" she seemed to finish, opening her eyes and standing up straight. The music soon stopped playing as well. With a flourish of his cloak, Erik decided to take her advice.

He **would** do it right now.

-0-0-

Satisfying though showing up everyone with the sudden and surprisingly well sung(even to herself it was a surprise) song, it changed nothing. She'd left everyone soon after finishing the song, and was now walking along an empty hall, her hands at her sides. She walked at a slow pace, her feet dragging on the carpet. Why did it even matter for her to show those girls up? Nathan was still dead, she was still going to have to confront Erik at The Point of No Return, and she was still going to be murdered in the end. She sighed. No sense moping. At least when she died, her death will have been worth something. _She_ will be worth something.

Suddenly she felt a rope encircle her neck, and felt it pulled tight. She gasped in alarm, wheezing as her hands scrabbled at the tightening cord. She felt the presence of somebody behind her, actually bracing their arm against her back as they pulled tighter and tighter.

"You want me?" a dark voice snarled into her ear, pulling the rope tighter. Orva saw white spots. "Then you can _have_ me." He gave another yank, actually causing her head to jerk up from the force of it. She knew she was going to die then. No matter how much she continued to struggle and try to pull at the Punjab Lasso, it just kept squeezing tighter and tighter.

_How could I have let my guard down?_ she wondered desperately, the edges of her world turning black. As the darkness prevailed, enveloping everything, it occurred to her that she may have just reached The Point of No Return.

And then she was gone.


	12. Chapter 12: Dethorned

**NOTE: **Alright, I've teased ya'll long enough. XD

I own nothing except Orva.

* * *

Softness. Everything around her felt so soft. And she felt so comfortable and warm. Even if the air itself felt a little cold and moist. In her mind, her brain slowly began to replay what just happened. _So I'm dead?_ Orva thought. That made sense. The Phantom had finally killed her, and now she was laying on some soft fluffy clouds in heaven. There was even heavenly music playing somewhere nearby. Strange, she wasn't as bothered with being dead as she thought she would be. It was kind of nice.

She did feel one stab of regret though. She hadn't managed to save everybody from their tragic fate before she died. Erik would still get a broken heart forever, the Opera House would still be ruined forever, and so many people would still die from the chandelier falling. In the end, she'd done nothing, except maybe made matters even worse. _Born worthless, die worthless,_ Orva thought bitterly. Her mother had been right all along. She was completely and utterly worthless. With a sigh, she slowly opened her eyes. At least here in heaven it didn't matter.

She froze when instead of the fluffy brightness she'd been expecting, she saw lacy black curtains. She slowly sat up, staring all around her at the all-too-familiar room. Her eyes landed on the music box. Without breaking away from her stare, she pulled on the nearby cord, lifting the drapes. She stood up, and approached the music box. Reaching out a shaking finger, she made to tap it, but then withdrew her finger. Looking around, she spotted a mirror with an exposed, and rather sharp look edge. She walked to that instead, and ran her finger down it.

Hissing in pain, she withdrew her finger and studied the ruby liquid that dribbled out of the slit she'd made. For the longest time, she just stood there and watched her finger bleed. And then she finally pieced it together. _I can't be feeling pain in heaven...Or in a dream..._ She whipped around to stare at the opening on the other side of the room, showing her a view of a perfectly still little lake, and a boat sitting in the water by the stone shore. From beyond, she could hear the heavenly sounds of an organ being played.

She walked to the doorway, out onto the ledge, looking over at the glassy water. The water provided her with a reflection of her wearing a simple white nightgown. Her hair looked a little messy, bits of it sticking up in odd ways. She raised a hand to the deep bruise surrounding her left eye, now purple and black. Turning her head, she noted that at least her rainbow ear cuff was still in place. Trembling now, she stood up straight, and hoping against hope that she'd see nothing, she looked in the direction of the organ. What she saw almost made her faint.

There he was. Erik, sitting at his organ and playing some song. She made a sound in her throat, as if she'd choked on a scream. That made Erik sit up and turn to look at her. She swiftly backed away, pressing herself to the nearby wall.

He gave her a wicked smile. "Ah, you're up," he greeted, turning on his bench so he faced her. He crossed his legs, lacing his fingers together and leaning back. "I trust you slept well?"

"I-I, y-you, I," Orva garbled, trying to string together coherent thought. "Y-you – d-didn't you k-kill me?"

"Oh no my dear," he replied, now standing up. "I merely choked you to unconsciousness."

"W-w-why?" she asked, her eyes widening when he slowly started to walk towards her.

He took his time answering. "...I've figured you out."

"E-excuse m-me?"

"Don't try to play dumb!" he spat. "It was you the whole time! You at the Masquerade, you at the cemetery. This whole time you've been playing the part of Christine's shadow, the two of you plotting to destroy me." He was right in front of her now. Orva gulped. "And now, I want to know what you and her were planning to do in order to accomplish that." He grabbed her by the front of her gown and slammed her against the wall, making her cry out in pain. "Talk," he growled.

"I-I-I, w-we, never w-wanted to destroy y-you!" she managed to choke out through her terror. "P-please, I-I just w-wanted to stop a-a tragedy from happening!"

"What tragedy?" His eyes narrowed.

"I-I-I've s-seen the f-future. If things h-had continued the way th-they were, without any sort o-of intervention from me, then everything w-would've gone to hell. Your heart would've b-been shattered beyond repair. Christine would've betrayed you b-beyond anything you could've imagined during the performance of _D-Don Juan Triumphant_. So many people would've died, and the O-Opera House would've been lost forever."

His grip on her slackened for a moment before he gripped her even more viciously and slammed her against the wall again. "You expect me to believe you can see the future?"

She shook her head. "O-only th-that one v-vision. Before, I t-told Christine that Joseph w-would be killed during the _I-Il Muto_ performance, and that's how I-I got her to believe me and g-go along with my plan."

"And what exactly was that plan?"

"T-t-to t-take Christine's p-place," she told him quietly. His grip on her loosened once again.

"...What do you mean?" he asked slowly.

"I-I kn-knew you w-were planning to k-kidnap her, and keep h-her with you forever and e-ever. But she loves Raoul, and I-I just couldn't bear it if _any_ o-of you got your hearts broken. So, I w-was planning to disguise myself as Christine, and take h-her place for as long as I could. Then, she a-and Raoul could run far away. Even though you would've discovered m-me eventually, it would at least have been like your dream come t-true for a little while."

He stared at her for a few seconds before releasing her. She hunched over, losing her balance for a few moments as she coughed at the sudden return of oxygen. She almost didn't hear his next question. "You would have... sacrificed yourself just to try and make everybody happy for a little while?" Erik asked. She nodded. "...Why?"

"B-because th-the true f-future was just t-too sad," Orva answered. "A-and a-also, it's n-not healthy for s-someone to be obsessed l-like this. I was hoping t-to also cure you of your a-addiction. By getting kidnapped, I could create a-a placebo effect."

Something seemed to flicker in his eyes before he scowled, turning away from her. "Well, you got your wish," he said bitterly, walking back to his organ.

"W-what?"

"You will stay down here with me. You are my prisoner for as long as we both shall live." He sat down at his organ, and resumed playing.

"B-but, w-why? Why n-not just kill m-me?"

He gave a harsh bark of laughter. "HAH! You would like that, wouldn't you? No, instead I shall keep you here, never to see the outside world again."

Orva stared at his back as he played. "O-oh..." she said quietly, her voice shaky and thick. She could feel a painful lump forming in her throat, and she quickly walked back into his room. She only made it halfway across the room before she fell to her hands and knees, shaking so hard she had to clench her teeth in order to keep them from chattering. The tears streamed from her eyes down the bridge of her nose, landing and forming a little puddle on the stone floor. Little whimpering sounds escaped her throat. "I-I-I'm c-c-crying..." she whispered to herself, raising a hand to catch a tear. "W-w-why a-am I c-c-crying? Th-this is e-exactly w-what I w-wanted...E-everybody's safe n-now. H-he won't g-go t-to the p-performance, because h-he'll b-be keeping an eye on m-me. I d-d-did it. Everybody's s-safe." But even as she said this, she drew in a grief-filled breath. Gasping, she wrapped her arms around her stomach and curled over herself into a ball, her head resting against the floor as she cried.

0-0-0

He could hear her crying softly in his room. Shutting his eyes in frustration, he played even louder, trying to block out the sound. Let her suffer. This was, after all, the fate she'd chosen for herself. As he played, his thoughts wandered over to Christine. According to Orva, she'd been perfectly fine with the idea of letting someone take her place just so she could be with Raoul. This thought...disturbed him. It jarred horribly with the image of Christine he kept in his head. It made him feel as though Christine had changed from how he knew her.


	13. Chapter 13: Dinner and a Friend

**NOTE: **I own nothing except Orva.

* * *

Uncounted hours passed by. She could feel her stomach give an occasional, painful poke, or complain loudly, but she ignored it. She simply lay there on the floor, curled up in a fetal position. Her eyes glazed over in tears, she stared in front of her, seeing nothing. The black eye had swelled to full strength now, so now it was hard to see out her left eye.

She never thought it would be this awful. She'd always figured she'd be fine, that she'd be okay. Sure she'd be sad, but not so sad that it would be as debilitating as this. She'd thought that everything would be alright.

But she was so wrong. So terribly, horribly wrong. Only ever when it happened did the full weight of something crush down on someone. And to her, it was as if someone had dropped 10 tons on her back with the realization of what being trapped in the catacombs with Erik until she died truly meant. To never see the sun again, to never feel it's comforting warm rays kiss her cheek. To never again watch the passing clouds, picking out shapes and forms. To never again see the changing phases of the moon. To never again stare at the night sky, counting out constellations and being amazed at how pretty it was. To never again take a Sunday stroll, or look out a window and watch as rain pelted the streets.

To never again see the change of the seasons. To never even have the opportunity to see a rainbow again. To be doomed to only ever know and spend time with one person, maybe another on occasion. For everyone else that you'd ever met in the world, for everyone you'd ever come to love and care for to just become a thing of memories. For those people to move on without you, forgetting about you in the hustle and bustle of their own personal lives. To never be able to meet all the people you could've met, for those people to never find out that you exist. To never get to meet someone that could prove to be your soul mate.

To never experience love. To never feel the warmth of a man's kiss against your lips. To never get married, to never have children. To never wake up with your husband smiling beside you, offering to make some breakfast. Everything. Everything she had the freedom to do, everything that she could've done in the future, gone. She was now sealed within the cave that Erik called home, forever.

Her stomach gave a particularly loud grumble of pain, and Orva let out a shaky sigh. Slowly, she sat up and pushed herself to her feet. Walking at a bit of a tilt, she stepped back out from the bedroom. She looked over to where he still sat playing at the organ. Descending and ascending the two sets of stairs, she walked right up next to him.

"U-um, e-excuse me?" she asked. From behind his mask he glanced over at her. "I-isn't i-it time t-to eat something?"

He sighed, and stopped playing. "Yes, I suppose it is," he agreed. He stood up and walked over to where the cave branched off from the main area. After a moment's hesitation, Orva followed. Walking down the tunnel they soon reached a kitchen and dining area. He walked to the kitchen and started pulling out pots, materials, and ingredients.

Orva lingered in the doorway. "I-is, i-is there a-anything I can d-do to help?" she asked.

"Yes, you can grab some tomatoes, bay leaves, and maybe about a hand full of mushrooms," Erik told her without turning around, busy pouring some water into the bigger of the two pots. Orva nodded and collected the ingredients.

"S-so, wh-what are w-we making?" she asked, placing an arm full of tomatoes on the counter, catching a few before they rolled away. She placed the 7 bay leafs and the little hand full of mushrooms beside the pile.

"Spaghetti," he replied, glancing over at the ingredients and then doing a double-take. He scowled. "You grabbed too much..."

"I-I'm s-sorry. I'm n-not used to m-making things from scratch, u-usually when I cook dinner f-for myself a lot of the n-necessary things are pre-prepared and just need t-to be heated up."

"Sounds like you're spoiled." She bowed her head. They didn't speak to each other again, except for when she needed instruction on what to do. After a little while they sat at the table, eating dinner in silence.

"Erik?" a clipped voice suddenly called out, breaking the silence. The two of them looked up.

Erik shot Orva a sharp look. "If I hear you using my real name, I guarantee the consequences will be dire," he threatened. She gulped, giving a little nod. He then stood up and walked out to greet the newcomer.

"Erik, I'm sorry to intrude-" the voice started to say.

"I was having dinner, Madame Giry," he interrupted.

_Madame Giry?_ Orva thought, standing up as well. Even though she should've been able to guess as much, it still gave her a pleasant surprise. She walked out to the main area, listening to their conversation.

"Again, my apologies, but you're my last hope."

"Last hope for what?"

"Knowledge. The stage hand, Orva, she's-" Giry stopped herself when she saw Orva step out from the hall. Giry sucked in a breath. "So she _is_ here."

"M-Madame G-Giry!" Orva greeted, beaming. She nearly skipped to her, grabbing her into a tight hug. "I-it's s-so good t-to see you!"

"What happened to your eye?" she asked, pulling away and holding her at arm's length.

"O-oh, I-I got p-punched."

Giry sent a questioning glare at Erik, who shrugged. "She was being a smart-ass," he said.

"Right," Giry said through thin lips. "Why is she here?"

"She's my prisoner," he answered, grabbing Orva by the shoulder and pulling her back so she stood next to him.

Giry's eyes widened as she looked between them. "...What? Why, what do you mean?"

"You see," Erik stepped forward, preparing to go into a somewhat lengthy explanation, "She somehow knew of my desire to kidnap and wed Christine, and had decided to disguise herself as Christine so that Christine and Raoul could run and be together instead. I found out, of course, and have decided to kidnap her and keep her down here with me instead."

She looked over at Orva, whose head was bowed. "Is this true?"

"...Y-yes," Orva answered.

Giry sighed. "Why? Why would you do that?"

It took her a while to answer. "...E-everyone d-deserves a h-happy ending."

"But what about you? You can't possibly be happy..."

Orva smirked, looking up. "I-it d-doesn't matter. I-if I can m-make other people happy, I-I will have served some p-purpose."

Giry didn't have a response to that. So she turned to Erik instead. "Erik, you know this is wrong. She's just a young girl, she doesn't know any better. You can't possibly keep her here-"

"Watch me," he replied. "If this is all you came down here to do, then I suggest you leave."

Giry looked as if she was about to say something else, but seemed to think better of it. "...Fine." She looked back at Orva. "Is there anything you want me to bring you?"

"M-my f-father's sweater-v-vest, and some b-boy's clothing," Orva requested.

"What about dresses and undergarments?"

"I-I'm p-pretty sure Th-The Phantom has a-a few in stock, e-even if they're a little b-big on me-" She let out small "oof!" when Erik elbowed her in the ribs.

"Very well," she agreed heavily. She turned away to leave, stepping lightly on the boat. "I hope you know what you're doing..."

They stood at the shore, watching her go. Orva gave a little wave just before she disappeared from sight. She slowly lowered her hand, and continued to stare after Giry until she felt Erik lightly touch her arm.

"Come," he said when she looked up. "Dinner's undoubtedly getting cold."


	14. Chapter 14: Musings

**NOTE: **I own nothing except Orva.

* * *

A solemn look on her face, she turned to the group of people surrounding her.

"Well, Giry?" Christine prompted. "Where did you see her?"

Giry pinched the bridge of her nose. Even though it was best that the situation was revealed right away, it felt awful to be put on the spot like that. "She is...The Opera Ghost took her," she finally confessed. There was a collective gasp.

"He did?" Raoul asked, trying to confirm what she just said.

"Yes." She shot a relatively harsh look at Raoul and Christine. "And she agreed to stay, if only so he wouldn't bother you and your fiancee anymore." With that she brushed her way through the crowd. Even if she hadn't known Orva well, she couldn't help but feel pity for her. That black eye had looked fresh, and it was so swelled that she was surprised Orva was able to open that eye at all. _This really isn't right..._

_Oh but what are **you** going to do about it? **Nothing,**_ a cruel voice whispered in her head. _You're a coward. Face it, you could never stand up against Erik, you were always too afraid, and you always will be. You couldn't stand up against him when he started acting out, and sure as hell won't have the strength to stop him from holding an innocent girl prisoner._

_You don't know that..._ she argued, even though she felt her self esteem drop. _I could do it this time. I could finally do what's right, and put a stop to him..._

_HA! That's rich! No...you're too soft and weak. Too compassionate. You feel for him too deeply, and that's why you let him get away with all he's been doing. So now, he's like a spoiled brat in the sense he's used to getting away with what he's done. You don't have the strength to stop him. Never have, never will. Like always, you'll end up just lying in the dirt like a welcome mat, while he continues to step all over you._

_But Orva..._

_Is another victim. Just like all his other victims. If you couldn't fight back for his other victims, what makes **her** so special? Or is she somehow different from the others?_

_No, that's not it._

_Then what? How could you possibly have the strength to save her from her fate, if you couldn't do the same for others._

_The others were **murdered**. I only ever found out about it after the body had been dumped somewhere-_

_What kind of excuse is that? He's been murdering since he was a child. You could've said something to him then, convinced him to avoid doing it. **That's** how you could've prevented the other murders._

_I was young then! I didn't know any better, I thought it was a one time thing-_

_And when he kept doing it?_

_...I kept hoping that he wouldn't do it again. That eventually he'd change._

_And look where that hope has taken you._

_I..._

_You're so worthless when it comes to things like this. Actually, you know what? It's best you just **forget** about Orva. Forget about her, and hope that Erik will someday see the error of his ways, and stop being such a horrible person. Hope for that, just like you did for all the others._

Giry couldn't think of a counter-argument to that. She sighed once again, leaning against the nearby wall. "I'm getting too old for this kind of thing..." she said softly, once again hating herself and the little voice.

-0-0-

With a yawn and a big stretch Orva sat up from the divan she'd slept on the night before. Even though she'd slept in his bed when he first brought her down, after dinner he'd made it quite clear that it was a one time thing. And then he'd given her a tour of his home, showing her where the divan was. She stood and walked down another hall to the bathroom to freshen up. Splashing water on her face from the sink, she studied her features. She winced when she lightly tapped the swollen eye. _Did he really have to punch me so hard?_ she rued. Suddenly she heard a knock at the door.

"Are you in there?" came Erik's voice.

"I'll be out in a minute," she replied. So saying she quickly dried her face off with the nearby towel and stepped out. With him inside, she decided to go to the kitchen and try her hand at breakfast. At the very least she knew how to make scrambled eggs with toast.

0-0-0

Erik was walking down the kitchen, planning to make breakfast when halfway down the hall he smelled something cooking anyways. Peeking around the corner, he spotted Orva standing at the oven, staring intently at something in a pan. His head tilted in curiosity, he walked as quietly as possible until he was right behind her.

"So you _can_ cook," he observed. She jumped a bit, but soon relaxed, turning her head to acknowledge him.

"Y-yeah. I-I'm not s-some spoiled rich g-girl ya'know," she told him.

"Oh no?" he asked, going over to the pantry and pulling out the necessary items for coffee.

She shook her head. "M-my...f-father," she said the word as though it was painful to her, "w-was j-just a s-simple business man. Wh-while he couldn't make e-enough for a home, he c-could at least afford a relatively f-fancy apartment. As a general rule we d-didn't have much for frivolities."

He stared, slowly pouring the coffee beans into the grinder. "You want some coffee?" he quickly asked before putting up the bag. She nodded. "What about that bit of jewelry in your ear?" he asked, switching back to the original subject.

"Hmm?" she said, looking up. "Y-you m-mean my e-ear cuff?"

He nodded. "Such a colorful and well-crafted looking piece of jewelry, surely it must cost a small fortune. Doesn't that count as a frivolity?"

She stared at him, then plucked the cuff right off. "D-dude, i-it's plastic," she told him.

Now it was his turn to stare again. "...Plastic? What is plastic?"

She sighed, but then her eyebrows shot up. She stepped closer to him, holding up the rainbow-colored piece. "T-take a-a good l-look at this," she instructed, so he did. She then grabbed his hand and placed it there, moving his fingers over it. "N-now f-feel the sm-smooth surface, really i-inspect it." Picking it up and turning it over in his fingers, he was amazed by the texture. It didn't feel like anything else he'd ever encountered before. Not like metal, not like jewels, not like rocks, not even like glass, despite the reflective surface. Holding it up, he studied how each individual color in it glittered in the light, smoothly melding from red to violet, just like a real rainbow.

He noticed her holding out her hand, and he gave the cuff back. "Like I said, it must be worth a small fortune."

She shook her head, rubbing her thumb up and down the length of it. "E-even th-though it l-looks this pretty a-and leads you to b-believing it's worth a lot o-of money, it's actually cheap." She looked up at him. "Wh-where I-I come f-from, plastic is a-a very common, very ch-cheap material that's used in v-very many things. I found this e-ear cuff in a gift shop at a-a museum, and it only cost about a b-buck." She slipped it back on her ear and turned back to her eggs, rescuing them from burning just in time. "S-sometimes, l-looks can b-be deceiving. Just b-because something looks worth i-its weight in gold, doesn't m-mean it is. It could very w-well end up being the thing that m-makes you miserable..."

Erik's eyes snapped wide as he swiftly understand what she was getting at. He grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around to face him. "Don't you _dare_ talk about her like that," he growled.

Orva simply cast her eyes down. "P-please j-just face f-facts. The sooner y-you let her go, th-the sooner you can recover f-from your addiction." He slapped her. Shoving her roughly away from him, he turned back to the coffee. The rest of the morning was spent in silence. In that silence Erik stewed in his own thoughts. He decided then that he hated her ear cuff. He hated how it mocked him with it's false prettiness, when in reality it was worthless. He hated it...and the analogy Orva provided.


	15. Chapter 15: Understanding the Monster

**NOTE: **I own nothing except Orva.

* * *

He stood at the stone shore, waiting for Madame Giry to arrive with Orva's things. Eventually he heard the sound of splashing water, and looking up he saw Giry slowly come into view, a paper-covered bundle of clothing tucked under her arm.

"Good evening, Madame," he greeted.

She nodded her greeting, stepping out of the boat. "Erik," she stated. She held up a bundle of clothing. "This is everything she requested."

"Thank you." As he took the bundle, he couldn't help but feel a twang of curiosity. "What opera are they doing now?"

She looked back up the stairs. "Yours. _Don Juan Triumphant_. Raoul feels guilty about the whole ordeal with Orva, and wished to have it performed anyway in her honor," she told him.

"Ah...And Christine...She has the lead, doesn't she?"

"Oh yes."

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Of _fucking_ course. Now, when his plan was actually coming together, he himself couldn't participate because of that _fucking_ pale girl. If he left her alone, she could escape and ruin everything. Again. He sighed. "Yes, well. Have a nice evening." With a nod Giry stepped back into the boat, and started punting off. After a few minutes she disappeared from view. Erik stalked over to his room, throwing the curtains open.

Orva looked up at the noise he'd made, then lied back down, staring at the ceiling. Erik glared at her. _It's all her fault, it's all her fault..._ Even if he was only gone for around 15 minutes, the girl had an odd way of being which put him on edge. Like she knew something, or always had something hidden up her sleeve. No way in hell was he comfortable with leaving her alone for any length of time. _It's getting dark again..._

"...S-so w-was that G-Giry?" she asked suddenly from where she lay on the bed.

"Yes," he replied, walking across the room to a dresser. "By the way, here are the things you requested." He placed the bundle on a the dresser, where she could grab them when he promptly kicked her out of his room.

"O-okay." She didn't say anything else, and he was grateful for that. As of late, her voice had taken on a sort of dead, dull quality to it. She never did much, living with him. She just sort of shut herself up in a room of some description, and didn't come out unless she needed something. Though he didn't really mind her staying out of the way, whenever she used his room and lay on his bed, she'd been slowly imprinting her scent on his bed. That was what irritated him, the completely foreign, and decidedly feminine scent that stained his pillows and sheets. Her eyes, already creepy, had now taken on a glassy appearance to them, as if they were now dead instead of just looking like a doll's eyes.

He walked over to his organ, and sat down to play. Though the song started out somewhat complacent, it swiftly changed to an angry, pain-filled melody before ending on a final haunting key. As he played, he thought. He thought of his current situation with Orva, and then he thought of what Giry had told him. Finally, he'd thought of Christine._ The light...it's gone._

-0-0-

A couple of days passed. Orva once again lay on top of Erik's bed, staring at the ceiling. Her black eye had now begun to fade. Maybe, if she stared long enough, she'd be able to hallucinate seeing the sun or moon. At one point it had occurred to her the irony of her current disposition. Shouldn't she have been this thoughtful and depressed right off the bat? She had, after all, long since lost the life she'd once known. But perhaps, she'd simply been too distracted with everything else. Too distracted with seizing the opportunity before her to award everyone a happy ending and actually be useful for once. _Probably, even if I am here like this, I won't ever be able to get back home anyways,_ she thought.

She'd known that under her previous plan she'd never see her father again. Now, like this, she'd been able to consider how she got here in the first place. Most likely it'd been because she'd managed to be perfectly in synch with Christine's voice at the exact moment Christine had sung it in the movie. While this was so full of crap and desperately required deeper scientific study, it was thus far her best theory. Therefore, following that theory, she'd have to once again be in perfect pitch and sync with a singer from her own world, at the exact same moment that singer sang the note. Also, it had to be on Friday the 13th. Really, what were the odds of that?

Orva sighed, rolling onto her side. But even if she did have the opportunity to do so, she probably wouldn't. She'd technically promised herself she'd seal herself away with Erik and break him of his addiction. She'd promised, and she refused to allow her promises to become worthless like the rest of her.

Suddenly, somewhere in the cave, she heard a crashing sound. Her eyes jerked wide open, and she sat up. "Wh-what w-was that?" she asked the room. The music box started playing in response, the little simian smiling as it played the symbols. "I-it w-was a r-rhetorical question..." she replied dryly. She was then required to face palm. "I-I a-am talking...t-to a monkey o-on a music box..." With a sigh she hopped up from bed and went to investigate.

As she walked down the hall to the kitchen, she heard more sounds of stumbling. Messy sounds of clinking of glass, and some muttering. _Erik? _Orva thought, slowing her pace. Peeking around the corner, she was shocked into staring. There was Erik, slumped over the table, an empty shot glass in one hand, a soon to be empty bottle of what appeared to be rum in the other.

"Ph-Phantom?" she asked, stepping forward. She winced when she stepped on something sharp. Looking down, she saw her foot had gotten scratched from some broken bits of glass that had been lying on the floor. That explained the crashing sound. She looked back up at him. "Ph-Phantom?"

Finally he stirred and looked up. With a shock Orva realized he'd taken off his mask and wig, exposing his face and hair. Though she personally thought his face wasn't _that_ bad, it still gave her a bit of a horrid surprise. For now, his face scrunched up in a look of rage. He pushed himself to his feet, his chair being knocked over in the process.

"It'sh becaushe of you...it'sh your fault..." he accused, pointing a finger in her direction.

"Wh-what'd I-I do?"

"If you weren't here, then I could be up there, right now! Chrishtine...I could shee Chrishtine..."

A flash of memory ran through Orva's mind, reminding her that Erik had a one-way mirror. "...S-see Ch-Christine doing wh-what?..."

"Performing, in my opera!" he declared, taking a few steps towards her. "Of all timesh, when thingsh finally go my way, I have to let the opportunity shlip away to keep you in check!"

_The_ Dun Juan Triumphant_!_ Orva remembered with a shock. _They're performing it?_ Orva looked back up at Erik. "W-well, i-it's not s-so bad. You n-needed to let her g-go anyways, she-"

"Shut up!" Erik suddenly yelled out, advancing. "Shut up shut up shut up!" He advanced until he'd backed her up against the wall. "You, why do you alwaysh do that? Are you a shadisht, do you enjoy other'sh pain?" He punched the wall beside her head. "You cruel...vile woman..." He let out a shaky breath, and bowed his head.

She shrugged her neck back, trying to look into his eyes. "Wh-what a-are you t-talking about? I h-haven't done anything to y-you. In fact, you're the o-one who's been causing me pain! L-locking me down here, in the dark, n-never to see the sun again-"

"That'sh what you did to me!" He looked back up.

She stared. "...Wh-what?"

"You keep trying to crush my sheart under your sheel. You keep telling me that I can never shave Chrishtine," he explained, his slurring getting worse. "That'sh like you telling me that I can never shee she shun, that I should jusht remain shere in she darknesshh." A few tears started to glisten in his eyes, sitting on the lids as they threatened to spill over. "That'sh why I kidnapped you...if I can't shave any light, why should you? You...you...shpoiled little girl. Even now, all you do ish lay about, and try to shend me fursher into she dark..."

She watched as a single drop rolled out of his blue eye and down his marred cheek. She felt as though something had been broken. Like she'd crossed some sort of line with her actions. She felt a lump rise in her throat, and her eyes burned. "I-I...I-I'm so s-sorry. I-I just w-wanted you all to b-be happy. I thought...the o-only way I could do this was b-by making you understand that Christine doesn't love y-you." He gave an audible gasp, bowing his head again as the tears started to flow more freely from the both of them. "P-please, I-I didn't th-think that's how y-you felt. I thought y-you were used to the d-dark, that eventually you'd be fine-"

"Jusht becaushe I'm ushed to shomeshing, doeshn't mean I don't long for shomeshing else," he interrupted.

It was then Orva realized the reality of the situation. Yes, she'd been locked away into the darkness, but Erik had been trapped without the key for nearly his entire life. After years of knowing nothing but the absence of light, Christine had been his last hope, his last chance to feel the warmth of the sun. And then Orva had stepped in, and taken it all away from him. She sucked in a heavy breath as they both started to break down. Through each other's actions they had managed to seal both of their fates away from the light. It was their own faults neither of them could enjoy the light of day again.

Orva looked back up Erik, whose shoulders were shaking. Biting her lip, she forced herself to calm down. Tenderly, she placed her hands on either side of his face, and forced him to look up. The texture of his ruined skin beneath her fingers almost made her jerk away, but she forced herself to stay still.

"_M-my h-home is i-in motion_

_as d-darkness unfolds_

_the air o-overloaded_

_the sky stands in g-gold..._" Orva sang, hoping that a song would cheer them both up. Unfortunately, she was really too distressed to focus on sounding good.

"_B-but y-you went a-away_

_you left m-me to stay._

_We'll s-see us in heaven_

_I'm c-counting the days..._

_At the end o-of time_

_at the end of us_

_a-at the end of _

_everything we had,_

_Only f-faith helps you_

_only grace can do_

_only you c-can take_

_the pain._

_Cause the end of peace_

_is th-the end of life_

_and the end of any_

_happiness._

_Only l-love helps you_

_only trust can do_

_only you can take_

_the p-pain of me..._" Orva took the instrumental pause to catch her breath. She only knew the Nightcore version of the song. Erik had closed his eyes, a look of slight pain on his face. She wasn't surprised; she was a pretty lousy singer.

"_Wh-when th-thunder is c-calling_

_I feel s-so alive._

_The very f-first morning_

_can you see th-the light?_

_But you closed the d-door_

_to what I adored!_

_We'll see u-us in heaven_

_I'm counting no more..._

_At th-the end of time_

_at the end of us_

_a-at the end of_

_everything we had,_

_Only faith helps y-you_

_only grace can do_

_only you can take_

_the pain._

_C-cause the end of peace_

_is the end of life_

_and the e-end of any_

_happiness._

_Only love helps you_

_only trust can do_

_only y-you can take_

_the pain of me..._" she finished. They stood there, listening as the music continued on until it eventually stopped. They'd both stopped crying.

"Your shinging shucksh..." Erik said softly.

"I-I kn-know..." Orva whispered back. Erik started to slump, and Orva quickly arranged him and her so that she could support his weight. "N-now c-c'mon. How m-many shots did y-you have?"

"Bleh...fifteen..." he mumbled, dragging his feet as she lead them down the hall.

"O-okay, I-I'm pretty s-sure that's dangerous." With some hefty grunts she managed to haul him up the stairs to his room. She then dumped him on his bed.

"Ugsh...don't make me shleep shere..." he complained.

"O-oh? Y-you'd rather s-sleep on the d-divan? Actually, that's probably a-a better idea, in case y-you throw up..."

"No...it jusht shmellsh from you lying in it sho much...it shmellsh like roshesh..." And then he drifted off.

Orva stared. _Did he say rosemary or roses?_ Either way, he'd definitely just told her she smells nice. For some reason, this made her cheeks feel hot. She sighed, then turned to look at the desk across from the bed. _Even though it causes him pain...by now he's probably accepted that he can never have Christine. So now...the less he sees of her, the sooner he can recover._ She walked over to the desk, and opened the very bottom drawer. She grabbed the stack of artwork of Christine, and walked outside to the little lake.

Closing her eyes and being thankful that he was knocked cold from alcohol, she ripped the papers in half. Then she ripped them in half again, and again, and again. Finally she let all the pieces fall out of her hands into the dark water below. She watched as the ink and charcoal ran, the images turning blurry. The paper became waterlogged and sank, where they would eventually dissolve at the bottom. And with them, so would Erik's addiction.


	16. Chapter 16: Thinking Alike

**NOTE: **I own nothing except Orva.

* * *

Slowly, Erik opened his eyes. He groaned at the candle light – he had a hangover. Unfortunately, he couldn't really remember what happened last night. The most he could get was a vague picture of a blushing Orva. With a sigh he swung his legs over the edge of his bed and got up. He grabbed his wig and mask, which lay nearby, and put them on. He wandered out, and gave slight pause at the smell of breakfast that had managed to float its way all the way from the kitchen. He walked down the wall, almost tripping on the various steps. Why did he have so many little stairs anyways? They were just a tripping hazard.

He walked inside, and looked around just in time to see Orva look up from setting food on the table.

"O-oh, g-good morning," she greeted, quickly averting her eyes, a slight blush rising to her cheeks. He stared, then walked over to the table, sitting down. "I-I w-was just a-about to go g-get you..." she mumbled.

"I see..." he said slowly, continuing to look at her as he took a small sip of his coffee. _Why is she acting so awkward around me?_ A few minutes passed in silence, the two of them getting into their breakfast. "Did...did anything happen last night?" he asked.

"A-a...a-a few th-things, yes," she answered. She shifted awkwardly in her seat, then grabbed her orange juice and started to take a prolonged drink from the glass.

Erik feared the worst, that image of a blushing Orva coming up again. He swallowed. "I didn't...I didn't _sleep_ with you, did I?"

Orva choked on her orange juice, bits of orange liquid spraying everywhere. She hit her fist against her chest, trying to dispel of the offending liquid. "Wh-wh-what m-makes you s-say that?!" she asked once her lungs had calmed down.

"Did I, or didn't I?" he asked sharply, wincing at how she raised her voice.

"N-no!"

"Okay good. Also, don't raise your voice, I have a bit of a hangover..." Now they both ate their breakfast in an awkward manner. Suddenly a new thought occurred to him. "Did you...see my face?"

"Hmm? Y-yeah," Orva replied, her mouth now filled with toast.

"I see." Erik gave a heavy sigh. That certainly explained why she was so awkward around him. While he did have to commend her for not just outright screaming and throwing some sort of fit, he couldn't help but feel a little stab of pain at her behavior. "I'm sorry. I promise that you will never have to gaze upon it again-"

"I-it's n-not because o-of your face I-I'm acting like this," she interrupted.

He stared. "It's not?"

She shook her head. "I-I'd s-seen your f-face before in m-my vision. Kind of hard t-to forget something like that, b-but after a while I just s-sort of got used to it."

He blinked slowly, twice. _She has...accepted my face, when she only ever truly saw it once?_ He shifted in his seat, an uneasy feeling settling in his heart. The rest of the morning was spent in silence. The whole time, Erik's mind was consumed with the situation at hand. This girl, Orva, within the space of a few days, had complete accepted him for what he was, and apparently hadn't reacted at seeing his face. He thought back to when Christine first saw his face. How she'd trembled in fear...how she'd stared in shock and horror. She'd been **disgusted** with him. At the time, he'd thought that perfectly normal, and didn't blame her for her reaction. But this young girl...she hadn't done that? He closed his eyes, kneading his forehead. _Damn hangover..._

-0-0-

"Orva," he asked from where he sat at his organ. Despite his hangover, he couldn't resist the allure of playing music. No matter how much it made his head pound.

"Y-yes?" she answered after a few seconds. She sat on the divan, a book in her hands.

"Can you please tell me what exactly happened last night?" He turned to face her. She sat up, setting her book down.

"W-well..." she started, that pink blush coming back into her cheeks. It occurred to him that when she blushed, then her cheeks were the color of a pale peach rose. Modesty. More irony to contradict her lips. "Y-you b-broke one o-of your shot g-glasses, and I got m-my foot a little scratch o-on them. And you were upset, a-and then you made me feel u-upset, so I sang a song to try a-and cheer us both up, and then I dragged y-you off to bed, and, um, yeah that's it."

Somehow he got the impression that she was leaving something out. "...And nothing else happened? Nothing at all?" he pressed.

"W-well, y-you did c-complain a bit, a-at being put into y-your bed..." she mumbled, her face that pale peach.

"Oh really? About what?"

"A-about h-how my s-scent was all o-over the sheets..."

They stared at each other as the full weight of that sentence fell on them. Erik felt his heart pick up in tempo in embarrassment, a heat touching his face. Good Lord, he'd _never_ wanted her to know what he thought about her scent. Worst case scenarios on what sort of mortifying thing he could have said played through his head. Goodness gracious, he now cursed the invention of alcohol. "...Did I...um, did I say something about roses?..." She gave a timid little nod. With a sigh Erik leaned back, running his hand down his face. "Bloody hell, I _am_ sorry. Undoubtedly what I said was completely impertinent."

"D-don't t-take it b-back," Orva said suddenly. He looked back up at her. "I-I d-don't get c-complimented often, so i-it was kind of n-nice."

"Hmph, that surprises me," he replied, turning back to his music.

"I-it d-does?"

"Yes. No matter what you say, I don't think you've gone for long without compliments. Surely your mother must've awarded them often..."

"N-no...n-not really..." he heard her say quietly. "Y-you f-flatter me, b-but there's no n-need to lie." The music he was playing started to reach a peak, his fingers gliding effortlessly over the keys. "Wh-what c-could there p-possibly be to c-compliment in me?" His fingers hit a sour note, and he stopped playing altogether. "Ph-Phantom?" He heard her call his nickname, but he didn't react. Instead he just sat there, staring, his fingers hovering over the keys.

_Does she...really think that?_ He got up from his seat and turned to face her properly.

She stared back. "...Wh-what?"

"Were you dropped on your head when you were little?" he asked.

"I-I b-beg your p-pardon?"

"What sort of psychological trauma could you have gone through to lead you into thinking that way?" He walked towards her, standing a few feet in front of her. "Or could you just be an absolute idiot?"

She blinked. "...I-I f-feel as th-though I should s-say 'yes'..."

He sighed, crossing his arms. "Where does someone like you get such a low self-esteem?" he rephrased in the simplest way he could think of, without insulting her intelligence.

"W-well I-I would th-think that part f-fairly obvious," she scoffed. She leaned back, supporting her upper body with her arms. "P-people a-are so c-cruel, aren't they? I-I'm not exactly a r-rose, am I?"

_My dear, that has to be the most ironic sentence anyone on the entire planet could utter._ How could she not think she was a rose? She was constantly reminding him of the treacherous flowers. White, Pale Peach, Coral, she matched all these roses. And then her personality would remind him of all sorts of other roses. Red, White, Pink, Light Pink, Yellow, Orange, and finally of Red Rosebuds. Courage and Respect, Purity and Innocence and Youthfulness, Appreciation and Grace, Sympathy and Sweetness, Friendship, Enthusiasm, and of Loveliness. She could be just as thorny as a rose as well. She was practically a bouquet in human form. "I fail to see what you mean," he finally said.

"Hmph, y-you're e-enjoying m-my self-degrading, a-aren't you?" Orva cast her eyes away, the lids lowering as her mood became more melancholy. "I-I've n-never been p-pretty. You can s-see that plainly enough f-for yourself, I'm a walking sc-scare crow. What, with my yucky colored h-hair," she gestured to a few hanging pale-blonde strands, "m-my c-creepy frickin' ey-eyes, my paleness, a-and not to mention h-how skinny I am, you'd h-have to pay someone to call m-me nice-looking." She sighed, leaning back a bit more. "I-I'm n-not graceful o-or particularly lady-l-like either. You've seen m-me dance, I've got two l-left feet. Thanks to my stuttering, I-I could never pass for a lady. R-real ladies can speak eloquently without irritating anyone w-with their speech, can't they?"

Finally she let herself plop backwards on the divan, her hands laced together on her stomach. "Th-there i-isn't much I-I can do i-in general. I have n-no special skills or talents, n-nor do I think even the a-ability to acquire any skills or talents. I-I'm just not...very useful. Finally, my name s-sucks. It's so ugly sounding, not like Christine or M-Meg," Orva finished.

_Apparently she has as much brains as a rose as well._ Erik stepped right up to her, leaning over so he could make eye contact. He had to brace his hand on the divan, right by her head he was leaning so far. Orva's eyes widened at him, his shadow looming over her. "Madame, though much of what you say is true, I personally can find many things to compliment about you." She blushed. "To put it simply, it is your personality where you shine. You are far too concerned with outward appearance, and it's really quite irritating."

She blinked. "M-my...p-personality?"

He nodded. "I doubt you've realized this, but you're quite the saint."

"A-a s-saint?"

"Indeed. You keep sacrificing your own well-being for people you barely know, and who would have just as soon thrown you away once you did. Despite the way I've treated you, your behavior is nothing short of pleasant. You stay out of my way and don't leave any messes. You're quiet and demure, which to some men are fitting qualities for a wife. Finally, you're a bit like a puzzle to me. I've still yet to truly understand your reasoning and logic." He took a breath. "Once and for all, I should like to know; _why?_ Why are you like this? You have nothing to gain, nothing you owe, nothing."

Orva blinked again. It occurred to him that she did that often when she was confused or surprised. "...I-I j-just...want t-to..." she trailed off, not finishing her sentence. Erik sighed, and stood back up. "I-I'm s-sorry, but I-I just don't s-see myself that way. I-I can't see me for a-anything else than what I am. Wh-when I look in the mirror, all I-I see is a pale girl who belongs i-in the background of a photo."

His voice caught in his throat. His eyes flicked over her before landing back on her face. _Now I understand._ She thinks like him. He couldn't count the number of times he'd looked upon his face in the mirror, and then turned away in shame. All he saw in the mirror was a monster. A Devil's Child. She thought like him, and could only see a skinny little pale girl in the mirror. A Ghost. They continued to stare at each other. Finally, Erik broke eye contact and walked back to his organ.

"One final thing you should know about yourself," he tossed over his shoulder, sitting down to compose some music.

"Wh-what?" she asked.

"Your name, Orva. It means 'worth gold.'"


	17. Chapter 17: New Activities

**NOTE: **I own nothing except Orva.

* * *

Orva woke up, and smiled at the now familiar sight of the yellow rose lying beside her on the divan. Ever since they'd gained a better understanding of each other, Erik had started giving her yellow roses. They were friends now. Her black eye had even healed. Sitting up and stretching a little, she picked up the rose, and placed it in the nearby vase with the others. 14 roses. Amazing how two weeks had already passed. She stood up and walked over to the kitchen, where she saw Erik finishing up breakfast.

"M-morning," she greeted.

"Good morning," he returned, turning around and setting their plates on the table. "I didn't make coffee for two, sorry."

"I-it's a-alright. Thanks f-for the rose," she said, sitting down.

"How many times do I have to tell you? Don't thank me." He sat down at his usual seat adjacent to her.

"M-meh. G-got any p-plans for today?"

"The usual. Compose a few songs. Play some music. Paint a picture-"

"N-not o-of Christine th-though, right?"

He choked a little on his coffee. "What? Uh, no. Definitely not her," Erik mumbled, not making eye contact.

"Uh huh..." Orva said, giving him the stink eye as she slowly placed a fork-full of french toast in her mouth. She drummed her fingers on the table. "Y-you kn-know, we've b-been over this. Y-you really do need a-a new hobby."

"Oh really, like what?" he scoffed.

"L-like, o-oh I d-don't know, we'll f-find something," she pressed.

"No. I do not need a hobby, I'm perfectly fine. I have plenty of hobbies."

"S-something th-that doesn't s-so directly relate t-to music. Or Christine."

"No."

"P-please?"

"No."

"O-oh c-c'mon, it'll b-be fun."

Erik sighed. "You're not going to quit unless I agree, are you?"

"N-nope." Orva smiled at him.

He rolled his eyes. "Fine. What's first?"

-0-0-

"F-first, I-I think w-we should try w-writing," Orva said, placing a stack of papers in front of the two of them. They were sitting at the desk in his parlor, where he kept his divan.

Erik raised his eyes at the pile, moving the ink well a little to the side. "Writing?" he repeated. "Doesn't count as something artistic?"

"I-I s-said things th-that don't so d-directly relate to Christine," she clarified. "Y-you t-tend to d-do that through y-your visual artwork, so I-I though maybe poetry or p-prose could break you from that."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Very well, but you have to write something as well..."

"O-okay I-I will." She sat down next to him. "I-I'll w-write...a p-poem about ladybugs. Wh-what'll you write about?"

"It's a secret," he said churlishly. Orva giggled. Turning to her paper and grabbing a quill, she started writing. It was just a silly little poem about a ladybug who grew fat on aphids, until one day it exploded into confetti. 15 minutes later, she was done.

"O-okay, I-I'm done, h-how about you?" She looked over at him.

He quickly hunched over his paper, and scribbled out a few lines. "It's not done yet," he told her.

"C-can I-I see i-it?"

"No."

"O-oh c-c'mon, I'm s-sure it looks f-fine," she said, reaching over for it. He swatted her hand away.

"I said no."

"L-let m-me see i-it."

"No!"

Orva dived for it, and for a few minutes the two struggled, Orva reaching and grabbing for his paper, while Erik kept his knee up between them. Huffing, Orva came up with an idea. "L-look! A-a wild C-Christine!" she said, pointing over his shoulder

"What?" Erik asked, the statement completely throwing him off. It threw him so far off, that Orva was able to leap up and snatch the paper right out of his hands.

"H-hah!" she laughed triumphantly, quickly standing up and moving out of reach. "N-now l-let's see h-here..." She looked down at the paper, then froze and stared.

_Fair Skin, White as Porcelain_

_Curly Red Hair, Like a Ruby Waterfall_

_The Voice of an Angel_

_The Soprano Christine._

_Of the arts_

_There are many_

_With masters_

_Diverse and varied._

_But there is_

_Only one,_

_Whose talent is_

_Derived from heaven._

_She fell from_

_The skies,_

_To give the_

_World a bit_

_Of light._

_The saint Christine_

_Forever good._

_A rose,_

_growing proud and tall._

_Showing off it's red head,_

_soft petals and all._

_But behind that soft exterior,_

_the flower does hide._

_A jealous green stem,_

_and a thorny hide._

_Deceitful flower,_

_in human form._

_You, Christine,_

_who tricked me to try and conform._

Orva looked up and stared at a bashful-looking Erik. "I-I th-think we n-need to try s-something else."

-0-0-

"Remind me, Orva, what is the point of this?" Erik asked.

"M-my d-dad liked b-boats, maybe you'll l-like them too," Orva explained. They were by the water's edge, a little toy boat in Orva's hands. She sat on her knees beside the much larger boat, while Erik crouched beside her. "W-we j-just make l-little boats, then p-put them in the w-water and smile at our h-hard work, and how we were a-able to make a sailing vessel."

"We made that cheap thing in roughly an hour."

"Q-quiet. I-it's the p-principle." Without another word, Orva set the little boat in the water, giving it a little push. It floated out a yard, sending miniature waves, before it was caught on a small current, and started to float towards the center of the lake, where it stopped. Erik and Orva sat there, watching it's journey, and continuing to stare at it when it stilled.

"...This is really boring and stupid," he commented.

"...Y-yeah."

-0-0-

"A-and th-then you f-fold that out, a-and voila! A paper c-crane!" Orva held up the origami bird. "A-and i-if you m-move it's tail f-feathers up and down, i-it flaps its wings." She demonstrated.

"I think I did it wrong..." Erik grumbled, staring disdainfully at his crumpled piece of paper.

"O-oh, i-it's not s-so bad, you j-just need practice," she comforted, taking the paper from him. "W-why, i-if you t-tilt your head l-like this," she tilted her head all the way on its side, "a-and s-squint one ey-eye," she squinted her left eye, "i-it l-looks just l-like...Christine," she finished flatly.

"Really?" he asked, mimicking her. "Oh wow, it does."

Sighing, she sat up straight, tossing the paper behind her into the lake. "C-c'mon. I-I have o-one other hobby o-on mind..."

-0-0-

They sat in his study, the candle light flickering and making it a little tricky for Orva to read. For the last two hours she'd managed to sit Erik down so the two of them could read. Ignoring his protests that he'd already read all the books in his study.

"Orva?" Erik asked, making her look up.

"Wh-what?" she replied, fighting back the urge to groan.

"While I do enjoy the occasional bed-time read, I don't think I could make a hobby out of this," he told her honestly.

"O-oh g-goodness gracious." She slumped in her chair, dropping the book in her lap and rubbing a finger against her temple. "Y-you a-are surprisingly d-difficult to find h-hobbies for. Makes me w-wish I was back home w-with my roses..."

"Your roses?"

Orva nodded. "B-back h-home, there w-was a community g-garden in the nearby p-park. You could get your o-own little plot of land, and g-grow whatever plants you liked. It all h-helped the environment, and really added to the ae-aesthetic of the neighborhood. I had my own plot, c-close to the center and right by the path. I g-grew roses there; it was really a very relaxing activity, and k-kept me going when times were hard," she explained. She sighed, remembering how dear those roses were to her. They'd made her feel needed, feel wanted. Feel useful.

"...Actually, I like roses," Erik told her, causing her to look up. "I think I could like gardening."

She beamed, sitting up straight. "R-really? Y-you want t-to start a r-rose garden?"

He shrugged. "Sure, why not?"

"Yay!" she cheered.

Erik rolled his eyes and stood up, walking over to his nearby desk. "Where should it be?" he asked, sitting down. He pulled out a blank sheet of paper, already creating a rough outline with a pencil.

"W-well, r-roses need a-a lot of s-sunlight. So probably somewhere o-on the roof is best," she told him, standing up and walking over to lean over his shoulder at his work.

"The roof?" He looked from what he was doing, giving her a furtive glance.

"I-it's n-not some d-diabolical plot to r-run away."

He turned back to his sketch. "Still. I shall only allow you on the roof to tend to the garden personally at certain times of the month. And only with my personal escort."

"F-fine." She rolled her eyes. "W-we're p-probably going t-to need permission f-from the managers..."


	18. Chapter 18: The Shift

**NOTE: **I own nothing except Orva.

* * *

Erik sat down at his desk in his room. For the moment, he'd grown a little weary of playing music, and now wished to draw a picture, and refresh his artistic skills. But what would he draw? He sat and puzzled at this. His eyes flicked over to Orva across the lake. She lay on the divan, as usual, reading a book from his study. _What she doesn't know won't hurt her..._ A little devil whispered in his ear. After all, after so many years of practice, Christine was who he drew best. His eyes cast down to the drawer where he kept all his Christine artwork. He hadn't touched it in a while though, so undoubtedly the inside would be a bit dusty. _Just one more sketch of her can't cause any harm, can it?_ Even if he and Orva had decided that gardening would be his new hobby a week ago, surely one more sketch, for nostalgia's sake, wouldn't jeopardize such an activity. Shrugging, Erik reached down, and pulled the drawer open.

A dust bunny slid into view from the movement, but the drawer was otherwise empty. Erik stared. _They're...gone? But, where did they go?_ Erik looked around in confusion, but now that he thought about it, he'd been seeing less and less of Christine throughout his cave. Where entire walls were once consumed by portraits of her, by now there were only a few, wispy posters. _Orva,_ his mind suddenly jumped to the conclusion, his face turning into a scowl.

"Orva!" he shouted, standing up and marching towards her.

Orva looked up from her book, and saw Erik glowering at her, using his "angry" walk.

"O-oh c-crap," Orva muttered to herself, quickly standing up and moving over to the other side of the nearby table. Whenever Erik had that look on his face, coupled with the way he walked when he was mad, she knew someone was going to get it. That someone usually being her.

"Orva, what happened to all my artwork of Christine?" Erik asked, trying to walk around the table to get to her, but she simply kept moving around it, to keep their distance.

"C-Christine? Wh-why should i-it matter, it's n-not like you're thinking o-of her anymore, or at l-least you're not supposed to be..."

"What did you do with it?" Erik snapped, switching directions and making Orva shift her tracks.

"...L-look, E-Erik, I kn-know how this l-looks. I'm honestly not t-trying to hurt you-"

"A bit late for that, isn't it?" he sneered.

"B-but l-leaving all th-those reminders of h-her around this place i-isn't going to help you f-forget! It's not healthy, to be s-seeing the face of someone you once l-loved all over the place-"

"It was art, Orva!" Erik shouted, finally grabbing the table and shoving it roughly to the side, the wooden legs screeching against the stone. Orva quickly stumbled away, only to get backed into a wall, where Erik closed her in to tower over her in his rage. "It was my precious, earnest artwork. Christine was merely the subject of the paintings, she doesn't bear any true emotional presence in them. And I do still love her-"

"Th-that's n-not true!" she interrupted, looking up at him fiercely. "Y-you m-made those p-paintings because you l-loved her. And besides, i-if they're just paintings, then i-it shouldn't matter. You can always m-make new, better artwork. And you _d-don't_ love her anymore."

"What are you-" he started to say.

"Y-you've f-fallen out o-of love, Erik. Y-you haven't mentioned Christine i-in a week, you no l-longer have a faraway look in y-your eyes, directed towards the surface. I b-bet the only reason you wanted to see y-your old artworks of her was to get inspiration f-for new artwork, am I right?"

For once, Erik had no rebuttal. While that hadn't necessarily been the reason for him wanting to go through his Christine artwork, would he have still wanted to go through it, if he hadn't been puzzled as to what to draw in the first place? _No, probably not._ But...did that truly mean that he'd fallen out of love?

"...Y-you c-can still c-care about her, y-you know," Orva spoke up, seeming to sense his thoughts. "Th-there's n-nothing wrong w-with caring about th-the people around you. B-but just because you care f-for someone doesn't mean you love th-them. Sometimes it's hard to tell the d-difference, but in the end, you're always a-able to realize where the line is drawn." She stepped around him, and sat back down on the divan, picking up her book. "Y-you sh-should apologize t-to her. Apologize f-for all the trouble y-you've caused, at the very l-least."

"You'll run away if I try to tell her," Erik argued quietly.

"A-after a-all this t-time, you still d-don't trust me? After a-all I've been doing for y-you, helping you even when you d-didn't want my help, you still believe I-I'll abandon you as soon as the opportunity a-arrives? I'm offended that you think so lowly o-of me."

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

She peered at him from over his book. "E-Erik, I-I know th-that it must f-feel like your world's sh-shattered all around you, and th-that now you're left to pick u-up the pieces. Even if you put u-up a brave face, I can hear the p-pain and tears in your music. Just please remember, I-I'll always be there to help you clean up, and i-if I can, I'll even help you build something new from th-those shards. Not rebuild the old world, but something new, so that y-you can progress as a person."

Erik didn't reply. Instead, he walked back over to his desk. He sat there for the longest time, thinking. Thinking of Christine, of Orva, and the things she'd said. He thought of Christine, and how much he'd come to love her. _She's wrong...I'll always love her..._ he thought. But even then he could tell it wasn't the same kind of love anymore. Somehow, over the course of the month, it had turned platonic. Orva was at least right about one thing, however.

Grabbing a piece of stationary and his quill, he began to write.

-0-0-

He walked slowly to the boat, grabbed his cloak, and keeping his eyes on Orva, slowly shoved off. His heart thudded in anxiety at the size of the task asked of it. He honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd completely trusted someone, based off of their word alone. Could he trust her? _I hope so. _Down the canal he went, ripples of fear disturbing him like the boat disturbed the water. Finally, when the front of the boat bumped against the other shore, Erik briefly closed his eyes, and pushed those thoughts away.

_I have to trust her. I must._ She, who cared for him. She, who, despite her own woe at the situation, stood by him. She, who had thrown her life away for his sake. She, who had devoted herself to helping him recover from the haunting echoes that were Christine.

_For that's all they truly are now,_ Erik decided as he approached the mirror to Christine's room. Even as Christine's scent started to fill his nose, and bring back all manners of nostalgia and old feelings, he knew none of it was truly the same. Stepping into her room, he pulled out the rose which he'd stored within the folds of his cloak upon his leave. He studied the petals, a crease of distaste upon his face.

He'd painted the petals black, to symbolize the death of their relationship. While he'd tried to imitate Orva's trick with the blue rose, in the end it clearly held none of the mystifying grandeur of the sapphire flower. The natural-looking appearance of the color within the petals, the melancholy beauty. In comparison, his rose was a cheap copy, the artificial hue simply too obvious. He hoped that Christine wouldn't take this into meaning that he wasn't serious. If she spoke rose at all, which he doubted.

Finally, he laid the rose and the note down on the desk. Most likely the last rose he would ever leave for her. _Maybe not though...maybe, on her birthday, you can leave her with another..._

_No,_ Erik decided firmly, wishing to silence that stubborn little voice.

_But..._

_I don't want to fall down that path again. It's been difficult enough climbing out._

_How did you climb out?_

_I don't know yet. It's just, things feel different now. Christine...doesn't seem quite so sweet anymore. Once I saw that, I was able to._

_Well that won't do. You're a genius, geniuses are supposed to be able to explain their reasoning. Otherwise they're just dribbling mad men._

_I agree. But it's hard to say when things began to change. My guess is that it was around a month ago._ Erik's footsteps echoed as he walked back down the spiral staircase.

_Isn't that around the time you kidnapped Orva?_

_Yes, actually. It was. But the strange thing is, I don't feel particularly different._

_How so?_

_While I'm able to recognize that things between me and Christine have turned stagnant, somehow, the light is still there._

_What light?_

_The light that being in love brings me, to keep away the darkness. It hasn't been extinguished for some reason._

_Why do you think that is?_

_I suppose, simply having someone, even someone like Orva, is enough to drive away the loneliness._

_It all seems like it keeps coming back to Orva, doesn't it?_ Presently Erik arrived in his cave again, and a look at the divan showed that Orva hadn't moved from her spot. He breathed a sigh of relief.

_I...suppose so._

_Perhaps the white rose feeds off of darkness instead of light._

_...Perhaps._

_Perhaps Orva has changed more than either of you could have foreseen._ Erik gave pause at that last comment, caught in the middle of hanging up his cape.

"S-so, y-you delivered y-your apology?" Orva asked from her seat, not looking up.

"I...Yes," Erik replied, feeling a little uneasy all of a sudden. Slowly, uncertainly, he walked around, to gaze at her. Her lids were half shut in boredom, her long bangs brushed to the side. Eventually, she looked up.

"...I-I t-told you I-I wouldn't leave."

"Yes, I know...I believe you now."

_I don't love Christine. I swear I don't love anyone. I swear, I swear..._ He needed a drink.


	19. Chapter 19: Crack

**NOTE: **I own nothing except Orva.

* * *

He'd started drinking again.

Not nearly as much as the night he'd had his breakdown, but throughout the day he could be seen drinking multiple glasses of wine during his usual activities. His music had turned dark, and very soft, giving Orva goosebumps and upsetting her tear ducts every time she heard him play. His artwork had become abstract, black and blue splotches across the paper. During meal times he wouldn't engage in conversation, but would instead stare blankly ahead of him, picking at his food.

And Orva was just about sick of it. _Something has to be done..._ she thought, eying him as he sat at his organ. He wasn't playing, just sitting very, very still, a glass of wine in hand.

"E-Erik?" she called. He lifted his head in response. "S-so...h-how's the m-making of that r-rooftop garden going?"

He took a few moments to answer. "I have the supplies, and the blueprints, but those worthless managers are reluctant to afford me the space needed."

"Hmm. M-maybe, th-they're being u-unhelpful, because they w-would be getting nothing i-in return?"

"They shouldn't be expecting anything in return. It's my Opera House, and I shall do as I please. All I need is for them to arrange it so that the garden is in a private section of the roof, where none may disturb it."

"I-I kn-know, but th-they do still p-put up with a l-lot from you." _I put up with a lot from you too..._

"Hmph. Well what do _you_ suggest I do, seeing as you're clearly the authority on appeasing others," he commented. Orva grabbed a nearby pillow from the divan and threw it at his head. "Ack! Hey!" He turned around, staring at her in shock. "What was that for?"

"F-for b-being an a-ass!" Orva snapped. "A-and y-you know wh-what else? It's f-for being such a d-depressing mope all the time!"

"I beg your pardon?" he asked, setting his wine glass down and glaring at her. "But under your instruction, I just told the woman I love that it is officially over between us. Am I not allowed to feel a bit bitter over the ordeal, or is that against your wishes too?"

"W-will y-you just _s-stop_ saying that?" she groaned. She stood up and started walking towards him, hands on hips. "Y-you a-are not d-depressed over Christine. Y-you got over her a-a long time ago, and w-we both know that." He looked away, the muscles in his jaw flexing. "Th-this i-is something e-else. Something else h-has happened, and that's wh-what's throwing you off. Am I-I right?"

He didn't answer.

Orva sighed, feeling herself calm down from his quip. "L-look, E-Erik. I kn-know I've been p-putting you through a l-lot. But you need to s-stop acting like a child, and d-do more than just what others specifically a-ask of you. You need to start doing th-things for others, without having to have been told t-to. You need to grow up, and start giving without t-taking."

He still didn't say anything. She sat down next to him at the organ, looking down into the water. "I-I kn-know it's h-hard. But that's j-just the way things a-are."

"Easy for you to say," he said softly. "I've had things being taken from me my entire life. And now you expect me to give?"

"I-I'm a-able to d-do it, aren't I-I? While I most c-certainly was never used as e-entertainment for a circus, I've had m-my fair share of hurt," she told him. "I-I've h-had any s-sort of self-c-confidence taken from me. I-I've lost the ability to b-be happy without having to do s-something for others. So yes, I do kn-know all about giving. But I also understand wh-where the line gets drawn, and when taking is a-acceptable." He glanced at her before his eyes returned to the water. "Th-this i-is a p-part of becoming a-a better person."

He sighed, running a hand through his wig. She peered at him, looking past his mask to his blue eye. "...Fine. Then what do you suggest I do?"

"Y-you c-could write o-operas for them, t-to sell and perform," Orva suggested after a moment's thought. Erik looked over at her. "I-if y-you provide th-them with original c-content to perform, then th-that would give the Opera H-House an edge that no other has h-had before. The ability to produce it's own o-operas, and perform them before anyone else. Can you i-imagine how the people would flock to see your work? R-remember what a success your _Don Juan_ turned out to be?"

"And, pray tell, why should I waste such an incredible amount of time and energy?"

"I-it'll c-count as a-a service you're d-doing for them. They'll h-have no choice but to p-pay you, or in this case, r-return the favor and give you that s-space on the roof."

"...I wouldn't even know what to write about," he told her. "Christine has been my inspiration for so long...it feels strange, trying to compose music without thinking of her in some way."

"Y-you'll f-find a n-new inspiration," she told him. "I-I kn-know you w-will."

"I-I d-doubt it," he sighed. He reached behind him, and took a sip from his wine.

Orva thought for a minute, trying to think of a way to encourage him. Then, of course, she remembered the nature of the world she was currently living in.

"_E-everywhere w-we go _

_w-we feel like w-we're strangers_

_On the o-other hand _

_it makes us f-feel major._

_If they never knew _

_th-then maybe they'll name ya'._

_Don't let 'e-em change ya',_" she sang softly, and the music started playing in the air, sending ripples across the lake.

"_Wh-when y-you finally f-find _

_what's beautiful_

_i-it's so wonderful._

_When y-you finally find_

_what's beautiful_

_i-it's so wonderful._

_It's so wonderful._" She stood up, and took the wine glass from his hand, setting it down before grabbing him by the arm and pulling him up.

"Orva, I'm not really in the mood," he tried to argue.

"Sh-shush. D-dance with m-me.

_It's so w-wonderful,_" she sang, quickly picking up the song again. She took a hold of his hand, and put her free hand on his shoulder.

"_E-exhale, b-breathe in_

_l-let yourself go f-for the evening._

_Break o-out, screaming_

_You can lose y-your voice_

_if you mean it._

_C-can't control the feelin'_

_and I can't l-let go_

_I need it._"

Rolling his eyes, Erik finally initiated the dance, placing his hand on her waist. "This is so silly."

"_E-everywhere w-we go_

_w-we feel like w-we're strangers_

_on the o-other hand_

_it makes us f-feel major,_" she sang, almost as if in counterpoint.

"_I-if th-they never kn-knew_

_then maybe th-they'll name ya'._

_Don't l-let 'em change ya'._

_When y-you finally find_

_what's beautiful_

_wh-what's beautiful_

_it's so wonderful._"

Taking careful steps, he spun them around the main entryway, keeping in beat with the music. If they happened upon stairs, he would quickly lift her up by the waist to level ground, and continue on. Still, he had such a cynical look on his face.

"_I-if y-you're looking f-for the stars_

_k-keep looking at me h-hard._

_If you're looking for th-the stars_

_keep looking at me h-hard,_" she sang to him, enjoying the appropriate nature of the lyrics.

"_Wh-when y-you finally f-find_

_what's beautiful_

_i-it's so wonderful._

_When y-you finally find_

_what's beautiful_

_i-it's so wonderful._"

Finally an amused smirk stole his face, and he gave her his full attention. She smiled back, gazing into those brown and blue eyes, and feeling a sense of familiarity from the situation.

"_I-inhale, s-steamin'_

_we c-can blow it u-up_

_for the weekend._

_Sh-shallow world, meet him_

_promise wh-when we bust in_

_the deep e-end._

_Can't control the feelin'_

_and I c-can't let go_

_I need it._" Yes, this was all quite familiar. Except this time, she wasn't wearing an itchy wig, and wasn't focusing all her attention on acting like Christine.

"_E-everywhere w-we go_

_w-we feel like w-we're strangers_

_on the o-other hand_

_it makes us f-feel major._

_If they never knew_

_th-then maybe they'll name ya'._

_Don't let 'e-em change ya'._" Now, it was natural, and she didn't have to put up a pretense.

"_Wh-when y-you finally f-find_

_what's beautiful_

_wh-what's beautiful_

_it's so w-wonderful._" Now, they were dancing with each other, they knew they were dancing with each other, and they enjoyed it anyways.

"_I-if y-you're looking f-for the stars_

_k-keep looking at me h-hard._

_If you're looking for the stars_

_keep looking at me hard,_" they sang together, Erik eventually deciding to join in on the song.

"_Wh-when y-you finally f-find_

_what's beautiful_

_i-it's so wonderful,_" Orva sang.

"_When you finally find_

_what's beautiful_

_it's so wonderful,_" Erik sang, alternating lyrics for this part.

"_Wh-when y-you finally f-find_

_what's beautiful_

_i-it's so wonderful._"

"_When you finally find_

_what's beautiful_

_it's so wonderful._"

"_Wh-when y-you finally f-find_

_what's beautiful_

_i-it's so wonderful._"

"_When you finally find_

_what's beautiful_

_it's so wonderful._"

"_Everywhere we go_

_we feel like we're strangers_

_on the other hand_

_it makes us feel major._

_If they never knew_

_then maybe they'll name ya'._

_Don't let 'em change ya',_" they sang together, Erik slowing their revolutions down as the song ended.

"_When you finally find_

_what's beautiful..._

_It's so wonderful._

_When you finally find_

_what's beautiful..._

_it's so wonderful,_" they finished, stilling. A few moments of silence passed with them merely gazing at each other, enjoying the echoes the song had left behind. Erik's head started to lean forward, but then he cleared his throat, quickly stepping away from Orva.

"Yes, well, thank you, for the pep-talk. Or pep-song, as the case may be," he told her.

She giggled. "A-as a-always, I'm g-glad I could h-help," she replied. Nodding, he turned and walked into his room, presumably to do some work at his desk.

0-0-0

_Oh god oh god oh god..._ Erik thought, pacing his room. The clock showed that it was already almost 7 o'clock, and would be time for he and Orva to eat dinner. He'd been walking from one end of his room to the other for an entire hour, repeatedly running his hands through his hair. His mask and wig lay on his desk, where he'd tossed them in a desperate attempt to release some of the heat he felt in his face. Luckily, it seemed that Orva hadn't noticed him blushing. _This can't be happening to me...It just can't...Not with her._

Things were finally starting to get better, why did they have to change again, most likely for the worse? Erik sighed, trying to think things through. Maybe it wouldn't end up being such a disaster? After all, she was already in his lair with him, with almost no hope of escape. And she was always so kind to him, so accepting... He ran a hand down his face, feeling the ruined skin he'd been cursed with. _No, she could never love me...What she exhibits towards my face in merely tolerance and nothing more..._

He looked up into the mirror, staring at the good side of his face.

_A white rose that feeds on darkness instead of light._


	20. Chapter 20: Splinter

**NOTE: **I own nothing except Orva.

* * *

Orva opened her eyes. A faint blush rose in her cheeks, like every morning, at the sight of the two roses lying next to her head. One yellow, the other pink. Thankfulness, and admiration. There were now 14 pink roses in the vase, sitting with all the yellow ones. _He...admires me..._ What a curious thing to think of. That someone, anyone, could admire her. Though, she found it pretty difficult to believe in Erik's case.

She got up, and proceeded with her daily routine. She splashed her face with water, and moved some of her hair back from her face. She hadn't been able to trim it in a long while, and it now reached half-way down her neck, while her bangs had grown to chin-length. There was a knock at the door.

"Orva?" Erik asked.

"I-I'll b-be out i-in a second," she answered, and dried her face off. She opened the door, and before she had a chance to so much as look up at Erik, he shoved her out, and snapped the door shut behind him. She looked over her shoulder at the closed bathroom door, and sighed.

Breakfast was worse. It was always worse.

"S-so, u-um, how's th-that opera stuff c-coming along?" Orva asked, trying to strike up conversation.

"Fine," he said quietly, not looking up from his food. Silence.

"D-did y-you...Are y-you composing something r-right now?"

He didn't answer, taking his time chewing his scrambled eggs. Orva looked down, poking at her bacon. She just didn't have the will to keep trying this morning, like she had the last 13 mornings.

As soon as breakfast was over, he cleared his place, and walked out of the room. Orva sat and watched him go, and didn't move until she heard him playing on his organ. It'd been like this ever since they'd danced together. Sometimes he would go and play on his organ, and sometimes he would leave, locking everything up to work on building the garden for 30 minutes at a time, and then he'd come back. When asked, he said he'd only let her up occasionally to help with the actual gardening. Although, he had at least allowed her to see where the secret door was, which led to the roof.

She put her dishes in the sink, considered them, and decided to wash them. It was better than having to go back out there, and fall back into their same routine, where he ignores her, and she lets him. It was too depressing. _I don't get it. Why would he give me pink roses if he wants to avoid me?_ She stared at her reflection in the murky water. Her lifeless eyes stared back.

_Is he...toying with me? Is that it?_ It didn't really sound like Erik, but at that point, what other options did she have? _Toying with me...I say that as though he's interested in me._ Her heart gave a little flutter at the thought, and she paused at the feeling. _No...that's impossible. He could never love someone like me. I'm a dust mite compared to Christine._

_Oh, but wouldn't it be fun though? If he did love you?_ a cheeky little voice chimed.

_I...no. It wouldn't. He's the furthest thing from boyfriend material,_ she told herself firmly, once she realized what she was thinking. _He's abusive, egotistical, possessive, controlling, doesn't trust me, doesn't listen to me, is stubborn, and a jerk to boot._

_He's musical and talented, and a genius. He's artistic and charming. Sensitive, charismatic, caring, passionate, masculine, and protective._

_I just...I can't care for him. That'd be so messed up._

_Why? Because he's ugly?_

_No, I could never hate him for being ugly. It's just...he's my kidnapper._

_A rather gracious kidnapper if I ever saw one._

_No, you know what this is? This is Stockholm Syndrome. I don't love him, I just think I do._

_Is it really?_

_Yes. That's all it can be._

_Or are you maybe afraid of being rejected?_

_...I've been rejected by others. It wouldn't be the first time._

_But it would be the first time from someone whom you really and truly loved. The first time from someone like him._

_I... _It wasn't possible. How could she possibly love him? She entered the main room after finishing the dishes, and looked over at Erik. His back was to her, and he was playing an unfamiliar song. Every so often he would pause and scribble some notes on some blank sheets of music paper. Orva studied his profile, the eyebrow lowered in concentration. From that side of his face, he looked so flawless. Like a poisonous flower, drawing you in with its beauty, but if you touch its petals, it kills you.

Orva turned away, walking past the divan and instead deciding to sit at the table, so that she could turn her back to him. _Even if I did love him, which I'm sure I really don't, I would only want to love the real him._

_The real him?_

_Yes. But the trouble is, I don't know which side of him is real. Is it the angel, who's warm and gentle? Charming me with all he does, and making me feel wanted? Untouchable, and perfect. Is it the man, who's easy to talk to, and emotional? With all his simple wants and desires, needing someone to lean on? An equal, a partner. Is it the phantom, who's cruel and murderous? Not thinking twice about striking me, and making me feel hated? A villain, to be avoided._ She sighed, examining her nails. The music filtered through her ears, echoing in her mind.

_Who is he, really?_ Orva wondered.

_Does it matter, when you're in love?_ the voice asked.

_I'm not in love. It's just Stockholms. It has to be. It must, it must... Mustn't it?_


	21. Chapter 21: Break

**NOTE: **I own nothing except Orva.

* * *

Orva sat on the divan, watching Erik compose. She bit her lip, glanced over at the vase of roses, then got up. She approached him, her hands behind her back.

"E-Erik?" she asked. He turned his head slightly in acknowledgment. "I-I w-was just w-wondering...Do you th-think I could try p-playing your organ?" _Wow, way to ask him about the roses._

He stopped playing, and tilted his head in a curious manner. "You play?"

"I-I, n-no, I j-just... I wanted t-to do something else f-for a change," Orva sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat.

Erik was quiet, and at first Orva thought he was going to tell her no, but then he scooted over to the side, giving her a place to sit. "If you're going to play on my organ, then I require you to be at least competent in its use," he told her. She blinked at him, then smiled, and sat down next to him. At least he was finally speaking to her again, even if he wasn't looking at her. "I trust you have a basic knowledge of all the notes?"

"A-ah...Th-the black k-keys are flat n-notes, and the white k-keys are regular notes, right?"

He sighed. "Good enough." He tapped a key on the left side of a set of two black keys. "This, is a C," he told her. He tapped another key on the left side of another duo of black keys. "Every key on the left side of two black keys is a C, all in different octaves. Place your hand here." He pointed at one of the Cs.

Orva did so, and he arranged her fingers so that each of them were positioned at one of the white keys. "Play me five notes." She did as instructed, her hand feeling awkward from the unusual positioning and movement. "Good. Now keep playing those notes until they are played smoothly and evenly." A few minutes passed of her simply playing those same notes over and over again. Slowly but surely, her hand started to feel more comfortable with the movement, and the notes came more smoothly. "Good," Erik complimented. "Now, do it again, but with your left hand."

15 minutes passed with her first positioning her hand the way her right hand had been positioned, and then with her trying to play the keys with it. At one point she had tried to play the notes too quickly, and Erik had had to grab hold of her hand, and slow her fingers down. "Evenly, I said. You must exercise control when playing any instrument." After she managed to play those five notes in a pleasing manner, Erik returned her right hand to the keyboard. "Now, do it all again with both hands." She tried, and failed repeatedly, many of her fingers not wanting to work in sync with one another. It was a little while before she was able to get them all to cooperate with each other, and play the notes correctly.

"There. Now you at least know the basics of how to play, which means you can play a basic song." He placed his right hand over hers, and gently pressed down on her fingers, causing them to play. It was a simple melody, gentle and sweet. Then he started moving her hand up and down the keyboard, the melody getting more complex. Orva glanced up at Erik, and saw a look of concentration on his face. He was getting lost in the music. He moved his arm in front of her in an attempt top commandeer her left hand, but his elbow bumped awkwardly against her, and he quickly moved his arm around her instead.

Orva blushed slightly at the closeness, and watched as her hands traveled all over the place, jumping a tier now and again. Then, on a spur of courage, Orva moved her finger without his guidance, and struck a flat note. Luckily, it created a rather nice compliment to the notes he'd just been playing, and he moved his hand off of hers. She continued to play at random, chewing on her lip as she played the keys in as gentle and simple of a way that she could handle. Erik played to her, his notes quickly turning into a complicated serenade. The two melodies weaved together in the air, complimenting each other in a spontaneously masterful duet. The two of them got lost in it, the music filling their heads and inspiring them both further.

Presently, Orva's hands started to feel tired, and she pressed down on a few select keys, hoping that Erik would take it into meaning that the song should end now. Even as the final sounds of the notes sung out and slowly died, he continued to play to them, so that when they were finally silent, they were expertly seen off. And then, he too stopped playing. Orva looked up, her hair brushing against his cheek, and jumped slightly at how close they ended up getting through the course of playing the song. Erik finally turned his head to look at her when he felt her hair brush his cheek, and his eyes widened in surprise. The two stared at each other, blue and brown looking into icy cerulean, their noses practically touching. And then they were touching, and Orva could feel his breath against her lips.

She closed her eyes, and tried to lean her head up, but then Erik suddenly leapt away in a huge clatter. She opened her eyes, and saw Erik on the floor, backing away from her.

"N-no, stop it, stop it, you, you witch..." he breathed, his chest heaving.

"E-Erik, wh-what are y-you doing?" Orva asked, standing up.

"Don't come near me!" he snapped. He looked like some terrified creature that had been backed into a corner. "Just stop it! Stop doing this to me!"

"Wh-what a-am I d-doing to you?" she asked, a hint of annoyance getting in her voice.

"This! This right here, it's what you do best! You're trying to hurt me, again!"

"M-me? T-trying to h-hurt _you?_" she scoffed, an incredulous look crossing her face before she was glaring. "I-if a-anyone's been h-hurting anyone, you've b-been hurting me!"

"What are you talking about?" He scowled at her.

"Y-you've b-been ignoring m-me! You've been a-acting like you want n-nothing to do with me f-for the last two weeks and a-a half! And yet, every morning, without f-fail, you leave me with these, these, meaningless r-roses!" Orva grabbed a pink rose lying on a nearby table, and threw it at him. "T-talk a-about mixed s-signals!"

"_I'm_ the one giving mixed signals?" Erik growled, tossing the rose aside. "How about the bitch who keeps trying to seduce me?"

"E-excuse m-me?"

"Don't think I can't tell what you're trying to do!" Erik snapped, getting on his feet. "It's just like before, pretending to be my friend, just so you can stab me in the back later! You always do this!"

"I-I a-am not!"

"Yes your are! You pretended to be Christine so that you could separate me from her! You pretend to be a respectful friend, while also destroying everything I have behind my back! And now, you're trying to get even closer, just so you can crush me when you leave me!"

"_Goddamnit!_ W-will y-you quit a-acting like you're a-always the victim?!" she shouted at him. "Th-things h-haven't exactly b-been peachy for m-me either! What about h-how I feel? I hate i-it here! I hate being a p-prisoner, and I hate never being able t-to go outside! I hate that you won't e-even let me out to help with building the g-garden! I hate that you never trust me!"

"You've never given me a reason to trust you!"

"Th-the h-hell I h-haven't! I have d-done nothing but try t-to help you! Everything I've d-done, I've done for the benefit o-of everyone else! And I am _sick_, o-of how no one is ever grateful for wh-what I do! What am I, a doormat to y-you people?! Don't reply to that. And now, this is th-the thanks I get? Your whiny, self-absorbed attitude?"

"How dare you," he sneered. "How dare you be so insulting, so-"

"I-it's t-true!" Orva interrupted. "Y-you've b-been acting l-like a little b-brat, all because you d-don't know how to handle l-liking someone-"

"What?!" Erik blustered. "Liking _you?_ I hate you! You're the source of all of my woe!"

"A-admit i-it! You've b-been giving me th-those pink roses because y-you like me more than f-friends!" she cried out, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

He slapped her hand away. "You give yourself too much credit, _my dear._ You'd be lucky if _any_ man showed the slightest bit of interest in you. I happen to have some standards-"

"Th-that's h-hilarious, coming f-from a mal-f-formed boogeyman whose own m-mother dropped on his head a-and left in the dust for a-all the world to mock!"

"Better than being a worthless doll!" he screamed back.

Orva's jaw dropped, and she stared at Erik. He glared back, breathing heavily. The word rattled in her skull, pounding on her brain. Worthless. It crushed her insides, and chilled her heart. _Worthless. _She felt moisture in her eyes, and the tears spilled down her cheeks. **Worthless. **Finally she looked away from him, no longer able to handle the look in his eyes. _**Worthless. **_She started to back away, her chest heaving. She wanted to scream, but had no voice. Something deep inside of her had just been shattered.

"...F-f-fine," she choked out. "I-I s-see how i-it is... If y-you don't want me h-here, then, then...I'm leaving!" She turned and fled down the hall.

"Going back on your promises, huh? Just like the lying whore you are!" she heard Erik yell at her. She screwed her eyes shut, suppressing a sob and throwing herself out the secret door. She ran up the narrow stairs there, her face in her hands.

0-0-0

Erik listened to her as she left, slamming open the secret door to the roof. He kicked over a nearby chair, and punched the wall. He stood there, still breathing heavily from the screaming match they'd just had. It was so quiet in the lair now, nothing moving. Just like how it used to be. The silence crushed down on Erik, making him hunch over. He hated silence. The silence was when the voices would come by, and taunt him. He could hear the echoes of the past in them, of the worthless surface people who had tortured him as a child.

He backed away, and sat down at the edge of the room, next to the lake, curling up with his arms around his legs and his chin resting on his knees. Worse still than the voices, was when there were no voices. When the silence itself would torture him, and he felt so alone. No one to talk to, no one to spend time with, no one to even see. Like he was the last person in the entire world. The loneliness crushed him, letting in the darkness, which invited more silence, which let in even more loneliness. A vicious cycle, which he tried to keep at bay by filling his lair with as much sound as possible. Trying to soothe his own loneliness through the comforting touch of music. He'd thought it'd be enough. He'd thought it'd be all he'd ever need. So long as there was music to keep the silence at bay, he would be fine.

Then Christine had appeared, and he fell in love with the sound of her voice. Though at the time completely untrained, he had remedied that, and in the process he'd learned of what an angel she was. So beautiful and perfect, so kind and loving. She had seemed too perfect.

But then, that all had changed. Suddenly, his entire world had been inverted and flipped upside down. And it had been horrible. Horrible, yet blissful at the same time. Beauty from pain.

Erik stared off into the abyss.

"_No one would listen..._" he sang softly, and music started playing in the air to accompany it.

"_No one but her..._

_Heard as the outcast hears._" He relaxed his fetal position, and took off his mask, studying it.

"_Shamed into solitude_

_shunned by the multitude_

_I learned to listen_

_in my dark_

_my heart heard music._

_I long to teach the world..._

_Rise up and reach the world..._

_No one would listen..._

_I alone_

_could hear the music._" He set the mask down, then looked over into the lake, staring at his own disfigured reflection.

"_Then at last_

_a voice in the gloom,_

_seemed to cry,_

_'I hear you!'_" Slowly, his reflection transformed, the hair turning fair, and the disfigurement disappearing.

"_I hear your fears_

_your torment_

_and your tears._" From the water, he saw Orva's face looking up at him, a gentle smile on her face.

"_She saw my loneliness..._

_Shared in my emptiness..._

_No one would listen..._

_No one but her_

_heard as the outcast hears..._" Cautiously, he reached out a hand to touch her. But as soon as he did, the water was disturbed, the ripples taking away her image, and returning with his own ugly face.

"_No one would listen..._

_No one but her..._

_Heard as the outcast hears..._" The music continued on for only a second before ending. Erik looked around at his lair, his throat starting to clog up. _I love her._ "Orva," he breathed, quickly putting his mask back on and getting up. He grabbed his cloak, and his punjab lasso for good measure. He walked quickly to the secret entrance. The stairs looked foreboding, shadowed and gloomy. It was probably getting to be very late on the surface world. Closing the door behind him, he ran up the stairs.

-0-0-

Just as he suspected, it was night-time outside. He glanced around the roof. To the left was the nearly complete garden, with a bit of fencing, and raised from the roof so that enough dirt could be put inside. There, across from him, was Orva. She was standing on the ledge, being perfectly still. From what he could see of her profile, her expression was dead, and her eyes looked even more lifeless than usual. The wind fluttered around her, ruffling her dress.

"Orva, I'm sorry," Erik told her. "Please, just come back down with me." She didn't answer him. She didn't even respond to his presence. "...Orva? What are you doing?" She mumbled something he didn't catch. "What?"

"...E-everything i-in this w-world serves a p-purpose," she said softly.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Th-things th-that do n-not serve a p-purpose in this world...a-are killed."

"Orva, what are you talking about?" Erik felt his heartbeat pick up, and reached for his punjab lasso. "What are you doing? Step away from the edge, Orva, you're making me nervous."

"W-worthless th-things...deserve t-to be destroyed."

"Orva?" He took a step closer, taking his lasso out for security.

"...I-I a-am worthless." She let herself fall forward.

"_Orva!_" He threw his lasso out to her, it falling around her a second before she disappeared from sight. It was agony waiting that extra second to pull. When he did, all of her weight was suddenly on the rope, and it dragged him forward, so that he had to brace his foot against a nearby statue. "C'mon..." he growled, trying to pull her back up. Soon she up in sight again, and was slightly caught against the ledge. Careful not to let go of the rope, Erik got closer, and pulled her the rest of the way up. Waiting that extra second than what he was used to proved fortuitous, with the lasso snug around her waist and arms.

"You...you idiot," Erik breathed, removing the lasso from around her. She lay limply on the ground, not looking at him. He could see the bleeding rope burns on her arms, which would need attention to prevent infection. "You, how, why would you _do_ that?!" he snapped, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her. "Why would you throw your life away over a silly fight? It's no reason to kill yourself!" She kept her face turned away, her bangs hiding her eyes. "Answer me!" It was a few minutes before she mumbled something. "What? Speak up, for the love of God!"

"...Y-you c-called me w-worthless," she whispered.

"Worthless?" Erik asked, remembering the hastily cobbled together insult he'd thrown earlier. She flinched as soon as he said it. "Why would it matter if I called you worthless?" She flinched again, and she started shaking.

"I-i-it's j-just..." she said, her voice trembling. "M-my e-entire life... I-I have always b-been told I was w-worthless. Always. And I believed i-it. But then, when I ended u-up here, I thought, 'this is my b-big chance.' I thought that for once in m-my life, I could do something useful. And then I-I wouldn't be worthless anymore. I thought I could make a-a difference, and make at least one person happy." Her voice started to crack and break, and Erik set her back down against the ground. She raised her arms to try and hide her face, curling up slightly. "A-a-and th-then...and th-then, you kidnapped m-me. But it was o-okay, because I was able t-to do what I'd set out t-to do. And I thought we were g-getting along." She sniffled and choked, and her face was flushed completely to that pale peach color. "A-and y-y-you... and y-you called me..._th-that word_... that W w-word... And I just... I h-had thought... I thought, that you... I-I... I thought you were becoming... _My_ a-angel o-of music..." she confessed, so quietly that Erik almost didn't hear it.

Erik's jaw dropped, and his eyes snapped wide open, heat rushing into his face. He stared at her as she lay there, crying quietly on the ground. A few minutes passed of the two of them there, neither doing a thing, except for Orva's soft crying. Erik bit his lip, and rubbed at the back of his neck. Then, with a gentler look on his face, he looked back down at her.

0-0-0

"_Flattering child_

_you shall know me,_" Orva heard Erik sing.

"_See why in shadow_

_I hide..._" She stopped crying, listening to the sound of his voice.

"_Look at your face_

_in the mirror._" Slowly, Orva turned her head to look up at him.

"_I am there_

_inside!..._" Orva managed to look up at him at just the right moment, with his voice and the music swelling perfectly. The moon was in just the right position so that it hung behind his head, resembling the halos of angels in stain glass windows. The light of the moon reflected off of his mask, making it a focal point. On his face, was the most gentle expression she'd ever seen directed towards her. The music washed over her, and her eyes widened in realization.

He was neither angel, nor man, nor phantom. He was **music**. An Angel of **Music**. A Phantom of the **Opera**. He was melody incarnate. Song embodied in a single man. Able to dance the line between heavenly hymn, and chaotic march. All three sides of him were the true him, because music flowed from all three.

She knew that this was the part in the song where she was supposed to sing Christine's part, but when she opened her mouth all that came out was a sob, and the tears flowed freely from her face.

0-0-0

When Orva looked up at him, he suddenly saw all the ice melt from her eyes. He sucked in some air in shock. No longer were her eyes dead looking, but filled with life. A bright, crystalline blue, shining and glittering with starlight. It transformed her features, stunning him with their beauty. She cried freely now, and he took her into his arms, and lifted her up.

"_I am your_

_Angel of Music._

_Come to me_

_Angel of Music,_" he sang softly to her as he carried her back across the roof.

"_I am your_

_Angel of Music._" They reached the secret door, and the stairs that led back down into his lair.

"_Come to me_

_Angel of Music..._" He closed the door behind them. It melded perfectly with the brick and stone, and looked like another part of the wall. His voice echoed slightly in the air, lingering before disappearing back into the darkness.


	22. Chapter 22: A Promise for Danger

**NOTE: **I own nothing except Orva.

* * *

A month had passed since the incident, as they both liked to refer to it. The garden had been completed, the bare roses planted, and already they were growing full with foliage. Orva had become quiet since the incident, and would spend long periods of time sitting by the lake, staring off into the darkness. But that was alright, because the desire to live was apparent in her eyes. No longer did she seek to give her existence meaning through servitude, but to simply live for herself. It was a difficult slope, and old habits die hard. Every so often, Erik would see the light vanish once again from her eyes, followed with crying, and the most he could do was hold her, and whisper that everything was going to be alright.

However, she soon ended up following in Erik's footsteps, and turned to music to comfort her. She would play the organ at least once a day, and her skills slowly began to improve. Despite the quiet, and the depressing darkness that forever seemed ready to pounce on the both of them, and make them do something drastic,things were nice. Calm, like the stillness of the lake.

The yellow and pink roses had disappeared, to be replaced by yellow roses with red tips. 'Falling in Love.' The two of them made very gentle progress in their relationship, neither of them wanting to rush things. And that was perfectly fine for the both of them. Already it was mid-April. All the snow had melted, and on the surface there was a feeling of spring in the air. He'd written another opera in the time that had passed, having drawn inspiration from their relationship. It'd been another romance, but this time it wasn't nearly as chaotic as _Don Juan_.

"...I-I j-just remembered s-something," Orva said suddenly, punctuating the melody-filled air.

"Oh, and what's that?" Erik asked, continuing to play his song.

"S-so m-much has h-happened since I g-got here...It hardly s-seemed important anymore, but I j-just remembered. My 18th birthday is c-coming up soon," she informed him.

He stopped playing for a moment. "You...aren't 18?"

"N-no."

A few moments passed where Erik's insides churned uncomfortably at all the possible implications that his relationship with her held, but then he went back to his music. "I see. What day will it be?"

"J-just a-a month f-from now. May s-16th."

"Should we do something special to celebrate?"

"N-nah...b-but...I c-can't help b-but wonder..."

"What?"

"I-it's b-been so l-long. I can't h-help but wonder how C-Christine, and Raoul, and the r-rest of them are doing."

Erik looked over his shoulder at her. He couldn't see her face, but he could see her slouched posture. He bit his lip, and took a steadying breath. "Perhaps...you should go visit them?"

She whipped around, a stunned look on her face. "C-can I-I?"

Erik nodded. "If you wish it."

She beamed, leapt up from her spot, and threw her arms around him in a hug. He stiffened at first, but soon relaxed, gently patting her back. "Th-thank y-you. Thank y-you so much. I-I promise, I'll come b-back before dinner time."

"I know you will. Or I'll take you back myself." She let out a short bark of laughter, and pulled away, smiling at him with those sparkling crystal eyes. "I'll be watching over you."

"A-alright," she conceded, and started moving towards the boat. "C-c'mon, l-let's go."

Erik watched her move away from him, and sighed. He stood, grabbing his cloak.

-0-0-

Orva swiftly made her way to the backstage, where she knew the majority of the people would be at this time. Whenever she passed someone, she greeted them with a warm hello, smiling at their stares. _Hmph, it's like they've seen a ghost,_ she thought humorously to herself. She passed by the familiar sets, and soon spotted her old friend Melody.

"M-Melody!" Orva called, running over to her. The mousy haired seamstress looked up from her pattern, and her jaw dropped.

"O-Orva?!" she cried out, getting up.

"O-oh, i-it's so g-good to see y-you again!" Orva gave her a tight hug that she didn't return.

"You, how...how did you escape?" Melody finally asked.

"I-I d-didn't escape. E-Erik let me c-come up here to v-visit." Orva pulled away, smiling. "Wh-where a-are Christine a-and Raoul? I w-want to see them."

"Uh... well, Christine's on stage, but- hey, wait!" Orva ran off. "Who's Erik?"

Orva never answered, and instead made a bee line for the ginger standing onstage. "C-Christine!"

The soprano in question turned, and her face split into a wide, surprised grin at Orva. "Orva!" Orva gave her a hug, which Christine accepted. "Oh, Orva! You're back!"

"Y-yeah! S-since my e-18th birthday is c-coming up soon, he s-said I could come visit."

"Really? When is it?" Chirstine asked, looking down at her, her eyes wide.

"M-May s-16th."

"Hah! What a coincidence!" she cheered, spinning Orva around. "It just so happens, that since your kidnapping, the opera has been doing wonderfully. There's been talk of throwing a party in celebration."

"Th-that's g-great, Christine." Orva stumbled slightly as she tried to keep up with Christine's spinning.

"More than that, I've an idea. Since these things seem to be happening so close to one another, I was just thinking, we should celebrate the opera's success on your birthday!"

"O-on m-m-my birthday?!" Orva's grip loosened, and she was immediately sent flying into some curtains.

"Yes." Christine helped Orva back onto her feet. "Wouldn't it be wonderful? A great big ball, all for you! Especially since when you consider that it's because of you that the opera's been doing so well anyways."

"I-I, I-I, gosh, C-Christine, that would b-be amazing, I don't-"

Christine put a finger to her lips. "C'mon, let's go tell the managers about the idea," she said.

"O-okay." Orva allowed herself to be dragged away by Christine to the managers' office.

0-0-0

Erik had been keeping close to Orva in the rafters, and watched Christine start pulling Orva off to some place. He would have followed, if he hadn't heard a few snippets of gossip being exchanged. His ears pricked up when Orva's name was mentioned, and he went towards the sound, listening in on some chorus girls' and a costume maker's conversation.

"Did you hear that? An entire ball, thrown just for that little slut?" a brunette complained. "I don't think I could stand it!"

"Hey now, Orva's not a slut," the mousy-haired seamstress name Melody defended.

"Oh really, then how do you explain her being able to live with the Phantom for so long? You said so yourself, she's familiar enough with him to call him by a nickname!" the strawberry-blond countered. The seamstress didn't reply to that. "Ugh, it's not even fair!" she continued, stamping her foot. "She didn't bleed and sweat and toil to get the Opera Populaire to its prestigious status! She doesn't deserve any of this-"

"Calm down, Anna-Belle," the girl with long black hair in a bun interrupted. "If there's any decency left in the managers, then they won't agree to Christine's proposal."

"Yeah, but what if Orva makes a 'proposal' of her own?" Brunette crossed her arms.

Black bun was quiet for a moment, and then smiled. "Then, we shall be gracious, and help to plan the party."

"What?!" Brunette and Anna-Belle shouted in unison.

"Shush, don't shout. Listen, I don't think you girls give our Prima Donna enough credit. Just imagine all the _fun_ we can have together at a party..."

"C'mon, girls, I don't think this is really necessary. I mean, the poor girl hasn't even gotten to see the light of day in months..."

"Relax, Melody. We're not even asking you to do anything. Go back to your stitching, why don't you?" Black Bun dismissed. Melody opened her mouth to argue, but then closed it again, and walked off, defeated. Black Bun turned back to the other two chorus girls. "Now, come with me. Let us discuss the upcoming ball in a more comfortable environment." They turned and left, Black Bun leading the other two.

Erik's teeth were grinding together. _I knew it wasn't a good idea to come up here. It never is..._ He looked up in the direction he'd last seen Orva heading in. _I have to warn her._ He got up, and started rushing through the shadows to where he'd find her. Passing through walls and halls, it just happened to be his luck that right when the door to the office came in sight, he saw Christine and Orva step back out of it.

They giggled and cheered, gushing to each other how much fun the party will be, and how lucky Orva is. Erik stood his ground in the secret passage, watching them pass from a one-way mirror. As they passed, he heard a small snippet of their conversation.

"...derful! Simply wonderful!"

"Y-yeah...S-say, I f-forgot to ask th-this, but where's Raoul?"

"Oh, he's at the estate right now. Don't worry, I'm sure I can get him to come by for the ball."

"C-cool. A-and, what h-happens to be y-your current relationship status, i-is you don't mind my a-asking?"

"Well, we've decided, that the wedding will be in June."

"O-oh, r-really? Christine, th-that's won..." And their voices faded away again. Erik didn't follow them at first. The news of Christine marrying de Chagny felt...strange to him. He honestly didn't know how to feel about it. He wasn't really sad, or even jealous, but he wasn't happy for Christine either. It was just strange to think about. Like some weight on his chest, but that he was glad to carry.

The chiming of a nearby clock told him it was already 4:30. How did the time past by so fast? Shaking his head, Erik stood back up, and proceeded to go after Orva once more. Even though it was early, it would take a little while to make dinner, and that was as good an excuse as any to get Orva back underground with him.

-0-0-

He'd remained quiet. After scribbling a quick note for Orva, she said her good byes and went back down with him. As she'd left, she didn't see the looks that many of the stage hands had given her. But Erik did. And it only helped to confirm his fears.

He'd waited until they'd made it all the way back to his lair to say anything, however. And it was as he was helping Orva off the boat that he decided to blurt it out.

"Orva, I think the party's a bad idea," he told her.

"W-what?" She looked up, confused.

"It's a trap. They're trying to lure you into a false sense of security, and then do something horrible to you," Erik warned her.

"O-oh E-Erik, you r-really need to s-stop being so paranoid. N-not everybody on the surface i-is as awful as you think," Orva dismissed, walking past him to the hall.

"Orva, I'm not being paranoid!" He tossed his cloak on the nearby hook, and followed her into the kitchen. "I'm being serious. I overheard some girls plotting together."

"A-and w-what exactly w-were they plotting?"

"Um...well, they said that they would help to plan the party... But they said it in a very suspicious way!"

"R-right." They reached the kitchen, and Orva started messing around with bowls and cutlery.

"Orva, you have to believe me, they're bad news." he came up beside her, trying to catch her eye.

"W-we s-still have th-that duck hanging o-over there. Should we c-cook that tonight, or should w-we finish off those snails you m-managed to get?"

"Pay attention to me!" He grabbed her roughly by the shoulders, and turned her to face him. "Don't go back up there."

"I-I h-have to, E-Erik. I promised t-to help with the p-planning for the ball," she said firmly.

"I thought you said you didn't want to do anything special for your birthday!"

"W-well I-I changed m-my mind, didn't I?" He pushed her away from him. He crossed his arms and scowled at the ground. A few moments passed, when he felt a gentle hand touch his jaw. He looked up, and saw Orva giving him a forgiving smile. He unconsciously leaned his face into her hand while she caressed his cheek. "D-don't b-be afraid f-for me, Erik. I-I'll always be here f-for you. Everything will be f-fine, you'll see." She moved away from him, and turned back to the task at hand. Erik watched her, the shadows all round them seeming to grow in his doubt.

_Why do I have to believe everything you say, but you won't believe what I say?_


	23. Chapter 23: Tea and an Apology

**NOTE: **I own nothing except Orva.

* * *

Already two weeks had passed. Orva was currently taking a break from all the planning, and was having some tea with Giry.

"I-it's n-nice to b-be able to s-spend time with you l-like this, Giry," Orva told the older woman, taking a little sip of her drink.

"Indeed. I'm glad that Erik is giving you this much freedom," Giry agreed, settling herself in her chair across from Orva.

"W-well, i-it wasn't e-easy. He's just c-convinced that all of y-you, even people who are m-my friends, are planning to do s-something awful to me," she explained.

"Oh?" Giry arched an eyebrow at that.

"I-I kn-know, right? I-it's silly for h-him to be so p-paranoid." Giry didn't answer, and took another sip of her tea. "...I-it i-is silly, r-right?"

"Well, I can't say that his worries are completely unfounded," she admitted.

"Wh-what d-do you m-mean?"

"Well, I do know that there are some people here, who don't really feel like you deserve to have an entire ball thrown in your honor, even though it's still technically an event celebrating the Opera Populaire's success."

"O-oh..."

"Now, that doesn't mean anything in itself." Giry picked up a cookie and dipped it in her tea. "While I'm certain that nobody's planning to do you in, they may be a bit bitter towards you."

"W-why?"

"It's because you have been gone for months, after all. No doubt they feel you didn't earn your party. While you've been imprisoned with Erik, we've all been up here, continuing with our lives." She took a bite of the cookie. "I can't say I blame them. Even if you've managed to keep Erik busy, it's still hard work. We're all still breaking our backs up here to make sure every performance is perfect. It's especially difficult trying to perform Erik's operas."

"B-but, d-didn't the o-opera help with p-popularity?" Orva picked up a cookie.

"Oh yes, they have. But they're such difficult pieces, it's a bit taxing on the performers."

"O-oh." Orva quietly muched on her cookie, thinking. "I-I g-guess I u-understand, too. It w-was hard work, being a-a stage hand. I wouldn't r-really like it if someone who'd e-essentially been sitting on their butt all d-day was thrown a big party that was s-supposed to be a celebration of all my hard w-work."

Giry nodded sagely.

"S-so...d-do you th-think that anything w-would come of that?"

"Hmm? Come of what?"

"D-do y-you think th-that those people a-are actually planning to d-do something to me at th-the party?"

Giry shook her head, setting her tea down. "No, I'm sure I would have heard of it. And nothing's happening at this party without Christine's permission. You have nothing to worry about."

"O-oh, g-good. I'm g-glad." Orva smiled and relaxed.

"More tea?"

"P-please."

Taking her cup, Giry refilled it with steaming hot Earl Grey. When she handed it back, Orva's fingers brushed her for just a moment. "I'm sorry."

"I-I'm s-sorry?" Orva asked, not quite catching what Giry had said. It'd been so fast.

"Yes. I'm sorry for letting him take you." Giry's head was bowed, so Orva couldn't easily see her face.

"O-oh, u-um, well d-don't worry, it w-wasn't really your fault-"

"But it is." Orva saw Giry's hands clench into fists at her sides. "He's my responsibility, but I've been letting him get away with murder. Literally."

Orva wasn't quite sure of what to say. "...Y-you w-were just a-a child. There's n-nothing you could have d-done."

"That's a lie, and we both know it."

Orva sipped her tea, trying to think of something clever to say. "W-well, i-it's... It's n-not a problem, r-really. Erik, you should s-see him. He's so different n-now. He doesn't treat me as b-badly as you may think." Orva gave a little smile, and reached over to Giry, gently prompting her to look up. There was a wetness to those crinkled eyes. "H-hey n-now, c'mon. Y-you've done your b-best. Things are getting b-better and better everyday. You sh-should be proud of what you've a-accomplished so far."

Giry finally smiled at that, and sat up straight, taking a deep breath. "Thank you, Orva, for having tea with me."

"No problem."

They both took another sip.


	24. Chapter 24: Descent

**NOTE: **I own nothing except Orva.

* * *

Erik sat on the divan, twiddling his thumbs. His heart was a nervous staccato, his instincts on fire. Despite all his warnings, despite all the signs that she somehow managed to keep missing, the party had been planned. And the night had come. Tonight, her 18th birthday would be celebrated with the opera's current success.

"E-Erik?" The man in question looked up when she called his name. She'd been in his room, changing into the dress she'd gotten for the occasion. She smiled shyly at him. "H-how d-do I l-look?"

Erik didn't answer for a few minutes. He'd temporarily lost the ability to breathe, while his eyes drank in the young woman who stood at the other side of the lake from him. She was wearing a relatively simple ivory dress. It had a flattering neckline, while the short sleeves hung around her upper arms, rather than her shoulders, exposing the patches of freckles there. It flared out from her hips, and she wore elbow-length matching gloves. All over the dress and along the edges was vine embroidery, cleverly stitched in a way as to emphasize her waist and chest. She'd finally pulled her hair back from her face into a neat bun, held in place with a little butterfly pin. A white rose.

"...You're not wearing any make up?" Erik finally asked.

"W-well, n-no. I've n-never really liked m-make up. It irritates m-my skin, for the most p-part. Why? Should I go put s-some on?" She came towards him, her reflection shimmering white in the dark water.

Erik stood up, shaking his head. "No. If it bothers you, then it's fine if you don't wear any." He brushed his fingers along her cheek bone, tracing the freckles. He stopped at the corner of her pale eyebrows. "Though you probably could have penciled these a bit darker, you look lovely anyways."

She blushed and shrugged. White blending into pale peach, all leading down to the coral petals which attracted his gaze for the umpteenth time. He cleared his throat and turned away, grabbing the punt. "We should get going. You wouldn't want to miss your party."

"Th-thank y-you, Erik." She stepped into the boat, and took a seat. "I-I h-hope you kn-know this means a-a lot to me." Erik didn't answer, and simply shoved off from shore.

-0-0-

"I'll be staying close by. In case anything happens," he told her once they'd reached the mirror.

"N-nothing w-will. Don't w-worry." She turned to leave, then paused, and looked back over at him, her cheeks flushed peach. Erik raised an eyebrow at her, and she bit her lip. Then, without warning, she suddenly leapt up and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Before Erik had time to even register the action, she was out the door and scurrying down the hall.

Erik stood perfectly still for a good while. With each second that passed, he felt his face become warmer and warmer, until it was finally on fire. He raised a shaking hand to his cheek, his breath coming in short gasps. _She... she... I, she..._ He couldn't even form the words in his own mind. He'd been kissed. For the first time in all of his life that he could remember(which was a lot), he'd been kissed on the cheek. _Goodness gracious!_ He stumbled back into the wall, clutching at his heart. _Calm down now, Erik, the night's not over yet._ With a gulp and a shake of his head, Erik managed to force himself back down the corridor, so that he could take one of his secret passages to the ball room.

A few minutes later, he reached the secret hallways that afforded him access to the decorated room. He watched the festivities through the various one-way mirrors, and watched as Orva entered the room herself.

0-0-0

Orva gasped in wonder at the all the splendor. Banners and streamers hung all over the walls and ceilings. There was a banquet table simply packed with horderves and drinks, and there in the middle of it all was a great cake. Orva had asked Christine to keep the whole birthday part of the ball low key, so as to try and appease the people who were upset with the idea. Everything seemed to glitter and shine.

"Orva!" Christine called, waving her over.

"C-Christine, R-Raoul," Orva greeted, curtseying. They returned the gesture.

"You look lovely tonight, Orva," Raoul complimented.

"Th-thank y-you." The smile on her face felt permanent.

"We're all going to have so much fun tonight, Orva. I have everything planned out," Christine gushed. "It'll be a night to remember."

"I-it s-sounds wonderful, C-Christine."

"Ah, Orva." The girl in question looked over to see three chorus girls approaching her. One had her long black hair tied back in a bun, One had strawberry-blond hair, and one was a brunette. "Happy Birthday. You know, it's been bothering me ever since, but I hope you can forgive me for calling you stupid, way back when you were still a stage hand?"

"O-oh, g-gosh, I'd f-forgotten about that. D-don't worry. It's all w-water under the bridge," Orva assured with a wave of her hand. She hadn't even recognized her.

"Oh good." Black bun smiled.

"U-um, b-by the w-way, I don't th-think I ever caught y-your name?"

"Oh, I'm Adele, this is Anna-Belle, and this is Anouk." She gestured to each girl in turn.

"P-pleasure," Orva shook their hands.

"Oh believe us, the pleasure is all ours." Adele smiled, and turned and snapped her fingers. Some ballerinas and other performers stepped out in costume. "In honor of this occasion, I and my friends have organized a performance for you all," Adele announced, her voice echoing out and commanding the attention of everyone in the room. She winked at Orva. "I hope you'll all like it."

"O-oh w-wow... Did y-you plan this, C-Christine?" Orva asked.

"Well, it was Adele's idea," Christine said modestly.

"O-oh, th-this will b-be wonderful!" Orva cheered, jumping a little for joy.

"Then, without further ado." Adele clapped their hands, and the show started. The performers were acrobats, moving in somewhat strange and mysterious ways. Although their were no lyrics, the music had a coy nature to it. With all of her training with Erik, the melody whispered to her, speaking a secret language that only she could understand. _Things are not what they appear... Things are never what they seem... Many don't say what they mean..._ Orva sang in her head, swaying slightly with the music.

0-0-0

Erik watched the performance, and listened carefully to the song. He grit his teeth, the hidden message of the song setting him on edge. _I believed my own worst fear... Danger to one and all, Savage... A powdered face is just the place to conceal an ugly scheme... _Soon it was over, and applause filled the room. He looked over to Orva's laughing face. _My dear, couldn't you hear it? They couldn't be more obvious..._

0-0-0

The party continued on. All around, their was talking and laughter. A few people came up to wish Orva a happy birthday, making her blush each and every time. She looked over at the clock, and saw that soon it would be time for everyone to dance. Christine noticed this too.

"Orva, before the dance begins, could you please get me a glass of wine? I'm simply parched," Christine requested.

"I can do it for you, Christine," Raoul spoke up.

"O-oh I-I don't m-mind, Raoul," Orva said. Before he could argue any further, Orva turned and started walking towards the banquet table. The polished floor gleamed beneath her, a slick and glassy surface. The way was clear, and Orva felt like the belle of the ball with all eyes on her. The lights shined down on her, so bright that they were almost blinding. Only a lone waiter carrying a bowl full of dark red wine stood in her path.

But just before she could reach him, something caught her foot, and she felt her body lurch forward. She fell towards the waiter, reaching out a hand for help, but somehow managed to grab the bowl, and pulled it from his hands. She fell to the floor with a clatter, the glass bowl shattering around her, a few pieces cutting her skin. She heard everything go quiet around her. Grimacing, she started to push herself up into a sitting position, the wine dripping down her head and staining her hair and dress.

And then the smell caught up with her nose. She let out a small sound of disgusted surprise, looking over the liquid that covered her upper body. The smell, it wasn't anything like wine. And the color wasn't dark enough. Her senses put the puzzle pieces together, and she realized, it wasn't wine, it was – "B-blood?!" Orva exclaimed in shock. There was a small crowd gathered around her, but giving enough space so as there'd be no chance they could step in the gorey liquid or on the shards of glass.

"Orva!" Giry stepped out from the crowd, and went to the girl on the floor. "Oh my god, why is there blood?! What's going on here?!"

"Don't worry, she's used to it," a voice spoke out. Orva twisted around to see Adele step out, a satisfied smirk on her face.

"E-e-excuse m-me?" Orva looked the women up and down.

"I'm only stating the obvious. There's no doubt that Death's Whore bathes in blood every night." Adele examined her nails in a bored manner.

"How dare you?! Did you plan this?!" Giry snapped.

"I simply thought it'd be suitable to christian the Phantom's Slut into adult hood with the same amount of blood that he's shed over the years." Adele looked into Orva's shocked eyes with her own, cruel green ones. "While it's unfortunately only pig's blood, I hope you can forgive me for not being able to afford you with the same lavish fluids you receive on a daily basis."

Orva said nothing, blinking up at everyone. She looked to the waiter, who's face was expressionless. She looked to Giry, who seemed to be trying to make Adele burst into flame with her eyes. Finally, she realized something, and looked over at Christine, who had an apologetic look on her face. "C-Christine...y-you..." she whispered. The soprano turned her face away, borrowing it into Raoul's shoulder, who looked just as shocked as a majority of the people there.

She felt her eyes burn, and quickly stumbled onto her feet. "Orva, please, come with me, I'll help you clean up," Giry started to say, but Orva ignored her, and pushed her away. The tears were streaming down her face now, and she ran out of the room before the sob building up in her throat could escape.

0-0-0

As soon as Orva had gone, Erik threw the knife he'd taken out once the nature of this party had been revealed. With the careful aim he'd taken, it spun right from the small opening, and it the target. It struck Adele right in the throat, who let out a gurgled shout before collapsing. The entire ball room soon erupted into screams. Erik ran down the secret passages, and soon caught up with Orva. Swinging a secret door open, he grabbed her and pulled her inside, shutting the door. If he left her out there, then the people might attack her for being with the Phantom. She was sobbing, a danger to them both. Erik could already hear footsteps heading down the hall, and people shouting about interrogating Orva. He picked her up in his arms, bridal style, and ran down the corridors.

He tried to keep himself calm as he ran. The adrenaline rush he got whenever he killed someone was always a bit...terrifying. The excitement that only murder could afford him was greater than any alcohol or hallucinogen. It made him act strangely, brazenly. It unlocked something primal within him, making him act more on instincts than logic. And that was just with a normal murder.

But this was far worse than just a normal murder. That had been an act of pure rage. Not to mention the adrenaline had built up before he could throw the blade, intensifying the effects. It'd been done not for his own protection, as had all the other murders in the past, but for the protection of another. Someone else whom his animalistic side had recognized as a mate long before his human side ever had. Now, running to protect her life, he could feel himself losing his grasp on his sanity. They reached the lake, but Erik didn't even think to use the boat.

Instead, he chose to walk through the water, dunking Orva in it. She coughed and spluttered, the blood being washed off her. Her hair started to come undone from the bun, strands clinging to her face. Erik continued on, leaving a trail of red in the water. By the time they reached the shore of his lair, all the blood was gone. But Orva was still crying. Finally, he sat them both down on the stone bank, shaking slightly from the adrenaline rush. She clung to his shirt, crying into his shoulder. He very gently wrapped his arms around her, glad for the chance to calm down by comforting her.

"I-I-I, I-I don't u-u-understand," she cried. "W-why w-w-would Christine d-do that to m-me? I thought we w-were friends. I thought she w-was _nice_..."

"...So did I," Erik whispered, feeling disillusioned after seeing Christine's true colors. "It just goes to show... All of them. All of those people on the surface... They're all wicked and cruel. Every single last one of them. Despicable sinners with hypocritical masks."

She started to calm down, and Erik looked down at her. The water had seeped through the white dress, making it lose it's opaqueness. The primal side of him made his heart pound, and he could feel it eat away at his mind.

"Even though you were born there, you'll never be accepted there. You're an outcast. You...you're too delicate for them. You're just a simple rose, too soft, and with no thorns. They'll crush you under their boots."

"I-I... I-I'd thought..." she said, pulling away with her eyes lowered.

"Forget what you'd thought." The insanity his instincts afforded him prompted him on, making him bold and blunt. He grabbed her by the chin, and made her look up at him. "You belong down here, with me. The shadows is your true home. Stay in the darkness, where we'll be free."

Her eyes widened. "I-I... B-but..."

But he was too far gone to listen to any argument she would have to make, or recognize any sort of signal she could send him. Music started playing in the air, and he pulled them both roughly to their feet.

0-0-0

Orva stared into Erik's eyes, and realized there was something off about them. Whatever his problem, he wasn't quite 'right' at the moment. He held her extremely close against his body, closer than she'd ever been. The music sounded like some sort of carnival-esque tango. And Erik treated it as such, and began dragging her all around the lair, moving in time with the song.

"_You and me in our playhouse_

_Living in a veil_

_We never need to go without,_" he sang. Orva struggled to keep up with the aggressive nature of his tango. She stepped on his foot quite often, but he never paid any mind to it.

"_Memories bring no joy or peace._

_We are alone._" He suddenly french-dipped her over the edge of the floor, and Orva briefly wondered if he would drop her into the water.

"_And all we need._" He pulled her back up, spinning her around so that he could hold her from behind.

"_Tuning out of the poison_

_Every waking day_

_Intolerance to overcome._" Orva couldn't help but notice that the direction he seemed to be dragging her in was his own room.

"_Fortunes won by the boys_

_with their guns._

_We are alone._" He kicked open the curtain, and briefly stopped at the entrance to his room.

"_Nowhere to run._" Orva's face flushed, but soon he was dragging her away again.

"_Oh, Orva..._

_You are my liberty._

_I celebrate the day_

_that you changed my history_

_of life and death._" He was so close, too close, yet not close enough. His hands were everywhere and firmly grasping her wrists at the same time. Orva felt like her heart was going to pound right out of her chest.

"_We'll always lead you_

_into love and regret._

_But you have answers_

_And I have the key for_

_the door to my Orva._" He spun her around just to yank her right back against him. The speed of the tango was so dizzying, it almost seemed like he was trying to cast her into some sort of stupor or spell.

"_Winding down your emotions_

_Family and friends_

_becoming ghosts to dream of_

_and pass on._" Dear god, his eyes. She couldn't even look into his eyes, they were so filled with passion.

"_Time will erase_

_every face, every name_

_We are alone._" He leaned forward, bending the two of over in such an extreme angle that it ground their hips together.

"_No one to blame._" Without warning he flipped her over his arm, catching her and once again dragging her around the lair.

"_Oh, Orva..._

_You are my liberty_

_I celebrate the day."_ He pulled her so close that their faces nearly collided, their lips just a hair away from each other.

"_That you changed my history_

_of life and death._" He pulled away again, moving back and forth with his tango, his legs seeming to move all around them.

"_We'll always lead you_

_into love and regret._

_But you have answers_

_And I have the key for_

_the door to my Orva._" He continued to lead them around the room, practically carrying Orva. When the music started to quiet and slow down, he pushed her against a wall, and pressed himself up close against her. Orva's breath came in little gasps, her chest heaving, and she stared into those abnormally crazed eyes of his.

"E-E-Erik?" she asked. He suddenly seemed to snap out of it, and the sanity seemed to return to his eyes. He glanced Orva up and down, finally looking at her lips and swallowing. A few moments passed like this, when Orva decided to lean her face up, just a little. She saw Erik's face flush, and he lowerd his own head. She closed her eyes, and felt a pair of rough lips briefly press against her own. And then they were gone, and so was he. When Orva opened her eyes, she saw the curtain of his bedroom fluttering from how quickly he'd ran away.


	25. Chapter 25: The Final Nail

**NOTE: **I own nothing except Orva.

* * *

A delicious scent tickled her nose. An incomparable softness surrounded her and warmed her. Slowly, blinking, she opened her eyes. A gentle light greeted her, flickering demurely. Orva pushed herself up, and looked around. _Why am I in Erik's room?_ The black veil fluttered around the ornate bed, enclosing her in a small sanctuary. She thought back to last night, frowning. She'd gone to sleep on the divan...and...? She shifted her weight, and her hand struck something kind of rubbery in texture. Turning, she spotted it. A single, red rose, with a black ribbon tied around its dethorned stem. Her heart skipped a beat, and she picked it up.

When Christine had received such roses, it was apparent that she never understood them. That she didn't realize what they meant, and what Erik had been trying to tell her for years on end. But Orva had known from the first time she'd seen the movie. A botanical language that only those who cared to listen could hear. _I love you,_ the rose whispered. She stepped out of bed, pondering the rose. Then she remembered the smell she'd detected earlier. She walked out into the main area, heading towards the kitchen. She didn't bother changing out of her nightgown.

Upon entering the room, she caught sight of Erik making breakfast. She watched him for a few minutes, lingering in the entryway. Only when he turned around did he become aware of her presence.

"Oh. Good morning, Orva," he greeted. "I was just about to come get you." Orva didn't reply, and looked around him at the food. Pancakes, and coffee. Her favorite. "Did you sleep well?"

She looked back over at him. "W-why w-was I i-in your bed?"

His cheeks went a few shades darker. "Well, it's just, you had such a rough night, and on your birthday too, and I, the divan didn't look that comfortable, so, I..."

"A-and th-the rose?" She held it up. Erik bit his lip, his eyes flicking between the flower and her.

He breathed in slowly, and cast his gaze to the stone floor. "I think it's time that some things changed in our... relationship." Orva arched an eyebrow at his hesitation. "You see, I simply don't think it's proper for a young lady to sleep on a piece of living room furniture while a gentlemen may sleep in a bed."

"Y-you're g-giving me y-your room?"

"I didn't say that." He turned away, putting the finishing touches on the food and taking out some plates. "I mean, at night, I think I should be the one to sleep on the divan, and that you should be the one in bed."

"Y-you d-don't fit o-on the divan."

"Look, I'm trying to be nice here." Erik offered her a plate with a modest stack of pancakes on top. She took it and sat down at her usual spot on the table. He soon joined her.

"S-so w-why did y-you give me th-the rose?" She scooped up a forkful of the fluffy goodness.

"Please don't make me explain that part," he said quietly. He sipped his coffee. "I know you and I speak the same language in that regard. Just accept it for what it is. I don't want to say it just yet."

She studied him. "...A-alright." She took a bite. _He loves me, I guess._ At least someone did.

A few minutes of noiseless chewing passed.

"So, um...are you planning to change soon?"

She shook her head. "I-I d-don't feel l-like it today."

"I see... About last night. I'm sorry."

"D-don't a-apologize. It's n-not your fault. N-none of it. Don't e-even worry about it."

"But, Orva-"

"_D-don't_ w-worry about i-it, I said. I-I don't want to t-talk about it. Not yet."

He nodded, and the conversation was dropped. While they ate, she thought. Even though she didn't want to talk about it, she thought about last night. She thought about all the details that had progressively risen to the surface. The implications they all held. It made her dwell on her life in general. It made her head ache and heart pound to spend any amount of time remembering the years she'd spent with her mother. Yet somehow, they seemed important now.

Orva had finished her breakfast before Erik, and left to at least put on a robe. She then occupied his organ, going through exercise after exercise and playing song after song. The music filled her head, distracted her. Kept her thoughts from lingering on painful things. She could now see how Erik had lasted for so long down here, all on his own. He simply avoided thinking about it. _Clever._ She could hear Erik moving about behind her, but she ignored him. She only turned her head when there was a splashing from the lake. Looking over, she saw Giry approaching them on the little boat.

"Orva!" Giry waved, coming closer. The boat bumped against the stone, echoing out.

"Giry," Erik greeted, walking to the shore to help her out of the boat. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Yes," she agreed, then looked over and Orva. Orva gazed steadily back, rising from the bench. The aged woman gave such an apologetic expression. "Orva, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry for what they did to you. If I'd known, I would have warned you." She moved towards her, but was stopped when Orva held up a hand.

Orva sighed, and pinched the bridge of her nose. If only music could chase everyone away, so she wouldn't have to talk. Evidently, however, it seemed fate wanted her to deal with everything immediately. "I-it's a-alright. It's n-not your fault."

"Is it really alright though?" She came closer, reaching for Orva. "Everyone feels terrible about it. Christine especially is ashamed-"

"Sh-she's a-ashamed?" Orva suddenly interrupted, looking up. "Sh-she's _a-ashamed?_ And e-everyone else is _s-sorry?_"

"Well, yes." He eyebrows knitted together in slight confusion.

"N-no. Th-that's a l-lie. They're only s-sorry because Adele died. Th-they're not sorry I was h-humiliated. They're not sorry for how I-I suffered," she said bitterly.

"Now, Orva, you know that's not true. What happened was a tragedy for all involved. Please, won't you listen? Christine wants to-"

"C-Christine." She felt her lip turn up in a small, unintentional snarl. "C-Christine w-wants to a-apologize, does she? W-well, isn't that just p-positively _saintly_ of her? What a-an angel! Lovely Christine, what a m-martyr! How brave, to want to apologize t-to Death's Whore! I take back everything I s-said. If _darling_ Christine is sorry, then want reason h-have I to feel bitter? Come, I'll return to the s-surface once more, and forgive them all."

"Look, I know things are tense between you and her, but Christine's truly-"

"N-no, sh-shut up. I-I don't want t-to hear it. I d-don't want to have to l-listen to whatever bullshit excuse she's c-come up with. I don't want to d-deal with any of them. I don't want t-to go up there ever again!"

"You can't be serious!" Giry's face was aghast. "Orva, you can't just let one, albeit terrible, mishap dictate how you live-"

"I-it's n-not one m-mishap, though." Orva turned away, looking into the water. Her reflection looked back, her eyes filled with fire. A fire that had been rained on, but burning brightly none the less. "Th-that i-incident at th-the party made m-me realize something important. I-it doesn't matter how hard y-you work. It doesn't matter how m-much effort you put forth, however many h-hours you spend to try and make someone h-happy. None of it matters if the person isn't g-grateful for what you do. I understand now."

Her voice softened, and her face returned to the melancholy it usually harbored. The fire flickered and died, but the warmth was still there. The warmth that had kept her alive all these years. It was the same warmth that had been in her father's eyes. After all these years, it was nice to see she had inherited at least one lasting trait from him, even if it took a while to find.

"I-I w-was never w-worthless," she said, more to herself than anyone else. "N-never. M-my mother...sh-she'd simply never a-appreciated what I had t-to offer. She'd sneered at m-my flowers. And all this time, I-I thought it was my fault. And n-now, here... I finally see. Even though I've g-given it my all, and did everything humanly possible t-to ensure everyone elses' happiness. None of you really appreciated w-what I gave you. You don't even realize what it is I-I gave. I gave you your lives, your futures, your careers. And th-then like spoiled children you complain because I couldn't find the right wrapping p-paper. Well you know what, I'm done with all of that."

She looked back up at the two. Giry looked dumbfounded, and there was an expression of encouraging admiration on the exposed side of Erik's face. "I-I w-won't continue t-to live in a-a world that makes m-me unhappy, and punishes me f-for things I can't control. The c-catacombs are my true home. Where none can j-judge me, where none will chastise me for my i-interests. These shadows, this darkness... it's a calm embrace and r-reprieve. I won't share what I have to offer with those w-who don't want it. Tell Christine that I'll be seeing her in h-hell, or heaven, or wherever it is that people go when they die, b-because I'm never coming back up while I'm alive."

She could feel hot tears pour from her eyes and streak down her cheeks, and she turned away, her breathing shaky. She wrapped her arms around herself, wishing that the pain in her chest would go away. _My heart. It's broken._

0-0-0

When Orva turned away, Erik gently took Giry by the arm, and led her back to the boat. "I think it's time you left," he said in a low voice.

"Erik, what did you do to her?" Giry whispered.

"Nothing."

"Liar. You said something to her. You did something to make her want to stay. What did you do?"

Erik gave Giry the punt, and braced his foot against the boat. He considered his answer.

"I said that I loved her." He pushed her off into the lake before she could respond. She frowned, before looking away in resignation, taking the hint. Soon she disappeared into the darkness, the only sign of her presence being the ripples in the water. Erik turned his attention back to Orva. Her shoulders were shaking, but she made no sound. He came up behind her, and gently placed his hands on her shoulders.

"H-h-how d-do you d-deal with this?" she asked, her voice thick.

"With what?" he asked patiently, his thumbs making gentle circles against her trapezii.

"Th-this p-pain. How d-did you deal w-with never going up o-on the surface again? Of y-your own free will? How do y-you deal with betrayal? How do you d-deal with being hated by practically everyone?"

He waited a while before answering. "...For a long time, I didn't. I was a child, just like you. For the most part, I just tried to suppress it all. But I soon found that wasn't wise, because it lead to violent outbursts, and many more murders. Now, in my age, I've learned that it's better to express your feelings when you have them. If you feel like crying, then let yourself cry. If you feel like murdering a scumbag, then murder the cad. Though the latter probably won't ever apply to you."

A short, breathy chuckle left her lips. "S-so, th-there is n-no way to d-deal with it? I j-just have to hope that th-things will turn out okay in th-the end?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"Th-that's r-really bad a-advice."

"It's the only advice I have. Normally life doesn't offer any advice at all. Take it or leave it."

She was quiet. And then, she leaned back, resting her weight against him. "C-can I-I at l-least have a sh-shoulder to cry on?"

"Always." He wrapped his arms around her in a loose hug.

"A-and a-an entire f-face, to gain c-comfort from?"

"...I don't think you'd find much comfort from my face."

"Y-you'd b-be wrong. A-all I need i-is a pair of c-clear eyes, a window to th-the soul. Can I gaze upon a-a kindred spirit in my suffering?"

"...Maybe."

The splashing and rippling ceased, and they knew they were alone once more. A chilly air filtered through, raising goosebumps on them both. In the stillness, they both knew that 'maybe' was plenty. It was more than they ever hoped for on a regular basis. It was a promise. 'Maybe,' was perfectly okay.


	26. Chapter 26: Farewell

**NOTE: **I own nothing except Orva.

* * *

They had begun to bud. The foliage had been trimmed back to make way for the soon to come flowers. Another month had passed since the second incident, as they both liked to refer to it. Up on the roof, the garden enjoyed the warmth of June. Down below, the catacombs became just a bit less chilly.

Orva's skill with the organ had improved dramatically, and was now at a level where she could play pieces of medium-complexity. But there was no soul to it. Erik could see it in her slightly chilled eyes as they scanned the music sheets, in the way her fingers moved across the keys. The ache in her chest hadn't left yet, despite how brave of a face she gave him when he was looking. The warmth was gone.

Erik leaned against the corner of the wall, watching her on the divan. She was pretending to read a book, her eyes unmoving and the page going unturned for quite a while. _She misses it,_ he thought to himself. Despite the bold words she'd given to Giry, he could see that she had yet to fully adjust to the idea of staying underground for her entire life. The outside world was a bit like a drug. Dangerous, especially for people like them, but intoxicating.

He rubbed at the back of his neck, cast his eyes down, thinking. _Surely, just one last visit, to say a sort of goodbye can't hurt, can it?_ He looked back up, and met Orva's gaze.

"H-how l-long are y-you planning to s-stand there and watch m-me?" she asked.

"I'm a patient man. I've spent a majority of my life observing others. This could very well go on for an exceedingly long time," he replied coolly.

"Th-that's c-creepy."

"Look," he changed topics, "From what I understand, for tonight's operetta, Box Five will be unoccupied. For once since those mediocre managers took over," he told her, muttering the last part.

"S-so?" She turned the page.

"...Let's go out tonight, and watch." Her eyes flicked up to him.

"W-why?"

"Because you need it. I can see the pain in your eyes, of trying to commit to this life of your own volition. It was easy before, because I was holding you back, and you knew I wouldn't let you out. But now you're the one holding the key, and I can see how difficult it is for you to keep yourself from turning it in the lock."

She set the book aside, and turned over onto her side. "Th-they b-betrayed me. I-it's not hard a-at all to stay d-down here."

"Righteous anger can't be maintained forever. Believe me, I've tried. All it does is either evaporate, or turn into a hateful grudge. You're the not the type to be hateful."

"I-I'm f-fine." She further turned away from him, burrowing her face into her arm.

He crouched down beside her, and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Come with me. Watch the operetta. And say a quiet, peaceful good bye to the world above. It'll give you closure."

She shifted her head, and he could just see her eye peeking out at him from behind her bangs. "...Y-you're n-not going t-to take 'no' f-for an answer, are y-you?" He shook his head, the corner of his mouth turning up. She let out a humored little _hmph_, and tapped his nose.

-0-0-

After dinner, Erik helped lead her through another secret passage, sneaking through the walls like a rat and a mouse. After checking that the coast was clear, he pushed the wall open, and they both stepped out into the hall. They slipped into Box Five, keeping close to the shadows. Erik reached up to the cord, and very carefully pulled on the curtains, so that no one would notice them.

Due to the Box not seating anyone that night, a few of the chairs had been removed, no doubt to help with seating in some of the other boxes. As such, there was only one chair available. Erik took a hold of it, and made an air as if he was pulling it out for her to sit at a table. Orva's shoulders shook in silent laughter, and she was equally theatrical in sitting down. Erik stood behind her, his hands clasped together behind him.

"Wh-which o-opera are th-they performing?" Orva asked, her voice a whisper.

"_Orpheus in the Underworld_," he replied, leaning over to whisper in her ear.

"Ah, r-right, a-an operetta." They had arrived a little late, despite not even dressing up for the viewing, and the opera was already well underway. Already they were at the part where Aristée is introduced, singing his silly song about sheep. Orva smiled and giggled behind her hand at many of the jokes, but Erik paid little attention. He'd never particularly cared for comedies, preferring tragedies and drama. He was mostly there for Orva's benefit, betting on the chance that she preferred humorous tales, considering that most of the books he saw her reading contained at least one element of sarcasm.

After a while, the first act closed off with _Gloire! Gloire à Jupiter_, and the intermission began. Orva had gone quiet. "Are you enjoying yourself?" Erik inquired.

"Y-yes, i-it's very f-funny." She nodded. "Th-though, I-I found th-that part where P-Pluton took Eurydice down t-to the Underworld kind of i-interesting. It kind of reminded me o-of when you took me down to y-your lair. Except you had choked me into u-unconsciousness, and you hated me."

"Ah, yes. Sorry about that." Erik shifted uncomfortably, biting his lip.

"I-it's o-okay. Or a-at least now i-it is." She sighed. "I-it's f-funny, watching th-this opera, it's l-like I'm seeing it i-in a whole new perspective."

"So you have seen it before?"

She nodded. "I-in a-a way, y-yes." Erik raised an eyebrow at the way she said that, but decided not to press her on it.

"We've come a long way, haven't we?"

"Y-yes. I-it's been, l-like... 8 months, o-or something like that."

"I still have no idea how you managed to appear in my lair like that."

"N-neither d-do I, b-but hey; you c-can't solve all the w-world's mysteries."

"Indeed." He looked down at Orva when he said that, and smiled to himself.

"C-Christine's r-really become a-a great actress."

"Yes, she has. Even without my guidance."

"I-I g-guess it's a-a mark of j-just how talented she t-truly is."

"Well, I didn't fall in love with her for nothing."

"Y-yes... Sh-she always d-does the right th-thing, too."

"She tries."

"I-I kn-know. Even i-if she's hesitant, a-and even if it c-conflicts with her inner morals, sh-she will always do that which i-is for the greater good. Whether it b-be luring murderers out of their hiding places, o-or participating in a minor way to punish traitors."

"She's rather predictable like that."

Orva chortled. "Th-that m-must have m-made it a b-bit easier for you w-when you planned your schemes."

"Oh yes, they all act in archetypal ways. That's the thing about surface dwellers. In a society that is forever judging them, they quickly fall into a routine so that they may simultaneously express themselves, while not becoming an outcast. They cling to their patterns, under the false belief that it is their true identity to act the way they do. But if that were so, then there wouldn't be so many stories of people going on grand quests just to find out who they are. They're hesitant, and unsure of themselves."

"Th-that i-is the m-most pretentious thing I-I have ever heard."

"Perhaps."

"A-and a-are you r-really so different f-from them? No offense, b-but anytime you're up and a-about, the surface dwellers, as you c-call them, can generally trust that you're u-up to mischief."

Erik opened and closed his mouth, remembering all the times he'd balked in killing Orva, and just his reluctance over her in general. "I only falter in very...special circumstances."

"O-oh? L-like what?" she laughed.

"Look, the second act is beginning."

"H-huh? O-oh, so i-it is." Their conversation ceased as the operetta resumed. Throughout it, Erik watched Orva carefully, studying her features. She did not laugh as much this time, merely smiling when something funny happened. "I-it's l-lucky for h-her that Jupiter f-fell in love with h-her," she whispered towards the end.

"It is, especially considering that he's a god," he agreed, watching her reaction closely.

"N-now...d-despite how O-Orphée treated her, sh-she can go back t-to the world of the l-living." Her voice shook slightly.

"But, when Pluton came, she had also accepted her death when it came."

"T-t-true. Sh-she went p-peacefully, and was e-even able to give a-a polite parting note to O-Orphée." He thought he could see her eyes starting to water, and her voice had begun to sound thick.

"Even when she thought that Orphée was planning to kill her lover, the anger couldn't last. Fury is but a passion, and like a fire it is difficult to maintain for long periods of time." Her shoulders started shaking. Erik leaned forward, and gently wrapped his arms around her. "Rage causes us to act rashly. It is when we are calm that we are able to make sensible decisions," he said softly, his lips close to her ear. "What shall you say?"

She sniffed. "G-g-good b-bye." She dissolved into quiet sobs, but they were the healthy kind. Erik held her close, resting his chin on her shoulder. "_P-parting i-is s-such s-sweet sorrow,_" she quoted softly.

"Truly, especially with something you spent your entire life with." _My little white rose, I'll never let you go._


	27. Chapter 27: A Hug

**NOTE: **I own nothing except Orva.

* * *

Two weeks had passed. The rose buds were opening up, releasing just a hint of their sweet fragrance.

Everything returned back to normal, the two of them settling back into their usual routines. Orva had relaxed a bit with her organ lessons, and was now proceeding at a much steadier pace. She had finally let go of the surface world, and all that it possessed. And as far as her old life in the real world was concerned, it might as well have died. She now kept her father's sweater vest in a box that she stowed beneath the divan.

Everything was perfect...except for Erik. Somehow, just a couple days after she'd said good bye to the surface, he'd become rather quiet. Like there was something he wasn't telling her. Every so often he would leave, be gone for hours at a time, and then come back looking a little flustered. Whenever she asked him about it, he'd suddenly turn skittish and deny anything and everything. He was even playing his organ less than usual.

Orva sat on the edge of stone floor, her toes quietly skimming the cool lake water. Looking over to her left, she could just barely see Erik at his desk, doing some paperwork. Except, what sort of paperwork could a man like him possibly have? He did all his composing at the organ, and any sort of business he had with the managers he handled with them directly. And he never spent so long on his letters; he liked to keep them short and to the point.

Orva stared back into the water, thinking._ He still doesn't trust me...__How can I get him to realize that I'll always be there for him?_ She lifted her toes from the lake and watched the water drip off of them. An idea suddenly came to her, and she cracked a smile. Looking over to make sure Erik wasn't watching, she stood up and took off her dress and stepped out of her shoes, leaving her with only her chemise. She folded the dress up and placed it on the bench behind her. Then, without further ado, jumped into the lake.

A slight shock went through her body at the temperature of the water, but luckily since it was summer it wasn't nearly as cold as it was during the winter. She came back up with a burst of water that helped her to throw her hair back from her face.

"Orva?" She looked over to see Erik standing at the edge, a surprised look on his face that soon turned bashful. "What are you doing?" His eyes kept flicking up and down her form.

"O-oh, w-well you kn-know, the water f-felt nice, so I th-thought I'd have a little s-swim," she said, coming closer.

"The water's only waist deep."

"Y-yes, I-I know, b-but you can s-still swim in it. W-won't you join me, Erik? I-it seems like you've been working a-an awful lot lately. You could use a-a break."

"I haven't been working more, and I don't need a break," he immediately denied. He crouched down by the water and held out a hand to her. "Now c'mon, you're going to catch a cold."

Orva sighed, and gripped his hand. She suddenly flashed him a mischievous smile, braced her foot against the ledge, and yanked with all her strength. There was a brief moment of shock on his face before he came tumbling down into the water with her.

He came back up spluttering, rubbing at his eyes. "Orva-ugh! What did you do that for?!"

"Y-your w-wig's gonna g-get ruined if y-you swim with it o-on," she pointed out.

"My what?"

She came up to him, and gave him a steady look. He gazed back, his cheeks flushed. "I-it's b-been almost a-a year now, E-Erik. Won't you please t-trust me?"

"I-I...trust..." He gulped, making small attempts to back away. She simply moved forward to maintain their distance.

"T-take o-off your w-wig, Erik." Just the wig. She knew better than to try and press him about the mask. That would have to wait until later.

"But... I..." She shushed him with a finger to his lips, and implored him with her eyes. Taking a deep breath, he slowly lifted his hands, and gently tugged the wig out from under the band that held his mask in place. He tossed it over onto the stone floor, his stringy yellowish hair and a bit of his bald spot on display.

She held his gaze with her eyes, and very carefully reached up to touch his head. He shuddered, closing his eyes and looking down. "P-please d-don't be a-afraid." She placed her finger beneath his chin and gently made him look back up. "I-it's j-just your h-hair. There's nothing w-wrong with your hair." She paused. "Y-you kn-know, I d-don't think we've a-actually said this to e-each other yet."

"Said what? Complimented each other's hair?"

"N-no... 'I-I love y-you'." He froze, his face turning blank. She smiled, and stood up on tip toe to kiss him on his hairline. "I-I l-love you, a-and you should a-always be aware of th-that. I've fallen for you, a-and wouldn't want to be anywhere e-else. Never forget that, and never forget th-that you can trust me to always be h-here."

He opened and closed his mouth, swallowing, his eyes continuing to dance up and down. "I...um...well..." He took a deep breath and looked up towards the ceiling. "Please put on a shirt."

Orva's eyebrows drew together in slight confusion, and she looked down. Her chemise was made of a very light, white fabric, and was soaked through. Her face suddenly felt as though it were on fire, and she shrunk back down into the water so that it came up to her chin. "I'm such an idiot..."

"Only a little," Erik chuckled, walking over to the ledge and pulling himself back out of the water. Looking over at him, Orva noticed that his shirt had turned see-through as well, and her cheeks turned a few degrees hotter. He went into his room and tossed her a black vest. She climbed out of the lake, buttoning up and adjusting the vest in a way to somewhat preserve her modesty.

"I-I'm j-just...going t-to go change n-now."

"Good idea, me too."

"S-so, w-will you t-tell me what y-you've been up to l-lately?" She stood up, facing away from him.

"I've haven't been up to anything," he told her. When she looked over at him, he seemed to reconsider. "...But if I was, then I still wouldn't tell you, because it would probably be a surprise."

Orva sighed in relief. "Th-that's g-good. I th-thought it might've b-been something else."

"Such an overactive imagination, Orva. I'm not even planning anything."

Orva chuckled. "W-well, I-I'm _not_ p-planning anything either."

"...Wait, what?"

She simply smiled at him walked away to the bathroom, grabbing some fresh clothes. _If he wants to play that game, then I'll plan something too._


	28. Chapter 28: A Kiss

**NOTE: **I own nothing except Orva.

* * *

It was mid-July. The roses were finally in full bloom.

Orva had been planning this for two weeks. Working through Madame Giry, she'd managed to obtain a picnic basket, a blanket, some champagne, and various ingredients for food. As for the food, Orva was able to throw together leek and roquefort cheese tartlets, potato nests(with crab and apple), tartines, all-white salad, sour cherry soup, and a couple of pan bagnats for the both of them. Smiling in satisfaction, she tucked everything away, and closed the basket lid. She'd had quite a a bit of trouble, keeping it all a secret from Erik until the appointed time.

Speaking of which, Orva guessed it probably was the right hour for it, and grabbed the basket. She walked out into the hall, and called,"C-c'mon, E-Erik! We d-don't want to b-be late!" She opened the secret door to the roof.

"Late for what?" he asked, coming up to her. "What's that basket for? Why are we going to the roof?"

"Y-you'll s-see in a-a minute." She lead the way up the stairs, and exited to the roof. The sweet aroma of the roses filled the air. She quickly crouched down beside the garden, and took the blanket out. "D-do y-you know w-what day it i-is today?" She sat down on one end, and tapped the space beside her. Out on the streets, all over the city, the flag of France waved, and people were leaning out of windows and standing on the sidewalk and on rooftops and balconies and porches, everybody getting ready and waiting. The sun had set, the last few rays of light leaving the sky.

"Uh...is it...an anniversary of some kind?" Erik sat at her left.

"C-close. I-it's Bastille D-day." She took out the pan bagnats.

"Oh yeah." He took the sandwich she offered him.

"I-I th-thought that th-the two of u-us could have a p-picnic, and watch the fireworks."

"Hmph, this was your big plan? It took you two weeks to do this?"

"H-hey, I-I had t-to wait on G-Giry to get me a-all the supplies, and to g-get me the recipes." She pulled out a bottle of champagne. "A-and i-if you c-can't appreciate that, th-then I won't share a-any of my champagne with y-you."

"Hey, I never said I didn't appreciate it."

"G-good b-boy." She took out a couple of wine glasses, and filled them both up. The sky turned completely dark now, the stars glittering against its blackness. The couple ate their dinner in silence, merely watching the sky. And then, a streak, and an explosion of color. "Aha! Th-there i-it i-is!"

Following the first one, firework after firework was launched into the sky, colors and glitter lighting up everything.

"I can't remember the last time I saw fireworks..." Erik commented.

"I-I g-guess this m-must be a b-bit of a treat f-for you then. Tartlet?"

"Yes, thank you." They moved on to the snacks, slowly but surely pecking away at the remaining food. Orva leaned against him, her head resting into the crook of his neck, the fireworks lighting up her eyes. Glancing up, all she could see was the dancing colors reflecting off of his mask. She thought to herself for a moment, and started humming. As predicted, the music for her song started playing.

"_A-all th-those days_

_w-watching from the w-windows,_" she softly sang.

"_A-all th-those years_

_o-outside looking in._

_A-all that time_

_never e-even knowing_

_just how blind I-I've been._" She felt Erik shift under her, and she sat up, straightening her back.

"_N-now I-I'm here_

_b-blinking in the s-starlight._

_Now I'm here_

_s-suddenly I see._

_Standing here_

_i-it's all so clear_

_I'm where I-I'm meant to be..._" She didn't look at him. She kept her eyes fixed on the sky, watching those fiery splashes of color.

"_A-and a-at last I-I see the l-light_

_and it's like th-the fog has lifted._

_And a-at last I see the light_

_a-and it's like the sky is new._" And she knew it was true. This world that she had landed in, this was her home. Not that other place, where she wasn't accepted. Where she was ignored. Forgotten.

"_A-and i-it's warm a-and real and b-bright_

_and the world h-has somehow shifted._

_All at o-once_

_everything looks different_

_now that I-I see you._" Sitting here, with Erik, watching the Bastille Day fireworks and having a picnic, the moment seemed too perfect to be true. Like a dream that she'll wake up from at any given moment.

The music continued to play, and Orva was willing to listen to it, and just let it fade away like some fantasy. But then,

"_All those days_

_chasing down a daydream,_" she heard Erik sing, and looked over at him.

"_All those years_

_living in a blur._

_All that time_

_never truly seeing_

_things_

_the way they were._" She watched him sing, a smile creeping up her face. He held her gaze, a bit of an emotional look in his eyes.

"_Now she's here_

_shining in the starlight._

_Now she's here_

_suddenly I know._

_If she's here_

_it's crystal clear_

_I'm where I'm meant to go..._"

"_And at last I see the light,_" Orva sang with him, making the duet. She held his hand, their fingers intertwining, and felt as though she were in the movie the song originated from.

"_And it's like the fog has lifted,_" he sang.

"_And at last I see the light_," they sang, leaning towards each other, ever so slightly.

"_A-and i-it's like th-the sky is new,_" she sang, inwardly cringing at her stutter.

"_And it's warm and real and bright_

_and the world has somehow shifted,_" they sang. Once more, Orva found herself gazing into cerulean blue and brown eyes. Without really thinking about it, she raised a hand to his mask.

"_All at once_

_everything is different._" She slipped her fingers beneath, and very carefully removed it from his head, the wig moving with it. Erik trembled, but made no move to stop her.

"_Now that I see you._" She set his mask to the side, and simply looked at him. She could tell he was trying to read her mind, test her reaction to his face.

"_Now that I see you..._" She gave him a gentle smile, and he stilled. The music faded away just in time for another firework to explode.

"...You're such a brave girl," Erik told her.

"I-I'm n-not so b-brave," Orva answered. "I-I'm j-just not r-rude."

He bit his lip, his eyes flicking away for a moment before looking back up. He took a deep breath, seeming to try and calm himself. "Orva... you don't have to force yourself."

"W-what?"

"I won't mind, really. Please, even for the sake of manners, you don't have to force yourself to look. Tell me Orva, right now." He sat up, moving even closer towards her, their faces mere inches apart. "You don't have to force yourself into anything. I... I would never pressure you into doing anything you wouldn't want to do."

"Y-yes y-you have."

"I mean when it's important."

"_Y-yes_, y-you have."

"What I'm trying to say is," he hissed before regaining his composure. "If my face bothers you, I understand. You don't have to look at it. I can make it so you never have to gaze upon it."

"E-Erik, w-where is th-this coming from?"

"I just... I'm so terrified." His eyes started to look a bit wet, and Orva placed her hands on his face, her thumbs stroking his cheekbones. "I am so afraid...of making you want to run away. Because I know, that at some point or another, this is bound to be too much for you. Sure it's all fine and dandy now, but what about later? What about when you're older, and get tired of all this? What if you get tired of me, and come to hate me, and my face? Orva," He grabbed her hands, and held them in place, leaning his deformed face into her left hand, ever so slightly. "I know you've said this before, but please, tell me once more, just so I can be absolutely certain, and be completely honest...does my face bother you?"

Orva didn't answer at first. She simply looked into his eyes, and thought about her answer. At last, she leaned forward, and kissed him. She'd closed her eyes, and simply kissed him. Eventually, she felt him start moving his lips against hers, seeming to want to claim her upper lip, and she let him, and she took his bottom lip and massaged it gently. She'd seen it done in a movie before. After a few minutes, she pulled away, kissing the ruined corner of his mouth as she did so. Swallowing, she opened her eyes once more, meeting his.

"I-I c-can't think i-it beautiful. And I-I can't say that i-it doesn't disturb me a l-little," she told him. "B-but I-I don't h-hate you for i-it, and it's the k-kind of thing that I c-can get used to. I just c-can't love your for it."

"That's fine," Erik said, his breathing a little ragged. Orva wondered if he'd been holding his breath the whole time.

"I-is th-that all th-that was troubling y-you?"

"If I said there was more, would you kiss me again?"

Orva smirked, and leaned forward once more. "R-remember t-to breathe th-this time," she whispered, just before taking his lower lip once more.

Above their heads the the fireworks rained down their sparks, and the roses perfumed the air they breathed. All alone on that rooftop, everything was paradisiac.

Almost exactly like a dream.


End file.
